


Alpha Male Syndrome

by innerslytherin



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-21
Updated: 2009-11-21
Packaged: 2017-10-03 12:59:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 22,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/innerslytherin/pseuds/innerslytherin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Morgan isn't sure what it is about Rossi that drives him crazy, but he's determined to figure it out.  Of course, he hadn't planned on a pig farm and a revenge-obsessed fugitive.<br/>Notes: Contains spoilers for "Omnivore" and "To Hell...and Back".  Big thanks to my betas  and , and thanks of course to my artist ! :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Derek Morgan's day wasn't going well. Between getting word that a conviction had been overturned for a case he'd consulted, spilling his coffee over a nearly-finished report, and the dismal performance of his latest group of Academy trainees in hand-to-hand, he was ready to go home and do five miles with Clooney and collapse into bed. And it was barely past noon.

As he approached the entrance to the Behavioral Analysis Unit, however, he saw something that brightened things considerably. He smiled broadly, hoping he'd cleaned up all right after the class.

"Is that Jordan Todd? You mean they let you out of Counterterrorism sometimes?"

She turned to look at him and smiled. "Hi, Derek, how are you?" She held out a hand in greeting. He couldn't help but be charmed all over by that knock-em-dead smile of hers.

"I'm great now," he said, letting his smile slip into a grin. "How long has it been? You look fantastic."

She laughed. "Hmm, you always had a knack with compliments, didn't you? It's been a few months. I'm getting back into the swing of things over at Counterterrorism. Must be good to have JJ back."

"It doesn't mean we don't miss you," he protested. He finally let her hand slip free.

"No, you really don't," she said. "It's all right. I was never a good fit for this department, and it didn't take me too long to realize that. I'm just glad you guys are so good at your job."

"So what are you doing down in our neck of the woods?" he asked curiously.

For the first time she looked slightly uncomfortable. "Oh, I was just waiting--"

"Here ya go, kiddo."

Derek had to fight not to roll his eyes. Count on Rossi to interrupt. He'd come out of the BAU, holding out a book. Jordan took it with a smile.

"Thanks, Dave."

"Oh, good, Derek was keeping you entertained." Dave gave Derek a bland smile that made Derek want to grit his teeth. Instead he just gave a pleasant smile back.

"Yeah, we were having a nice little chat." _So why don't you let us get back to it?_

"Good, good." Dave kept smiling at him and didn't go anywhere. Derek didn't, either. Whatever Dave was doing giving books to Jordan Todd, Derek wasn't going to be the one to back down first.

In the end Jordan backed down ahead of either of them. She smiled at Derek, then at Dave. "Well. I should be getting back to work. It was great seeing you again, Derek." She put a hand on Dave's arm. "I had a nice time, Dave. I'll talk to you later."

Wait-wait-wait. Full stop. _I had a nice time, Dave?_ What the hell did that mean? Derek turned a hard look on Rossi, but Rossi was smiling charmingly at Jordan. Way too charmingly, for that matter. It suddenly came back to Derek, how solicitous Rossi had always been when Jordan was around.

Damn, she was young enough to be Rossi's _daughter_! What was he thinking? Derek managed to pull himself together enough to give Jordan another smile, then he turned and headed into the BAU.

In a matter of minutes he was seated at his desk and firing off an email to Garcia.

_Just saw Jordan Todd with Rossi. What gives?_

She replied a minute later with, _Not sure I can tell you, my prince. I'll get back with you on that._

What the hell? Derek glared at his computer screen for so long that Reid finally asked if his computer was working okay. Finally he shook it off and made himself get back to work. It didn't help, though, that when Dave came through the bullpen a few minutes later, he was smirking. Smug bastard.

*******

He tried to put it out of his mind. He really did. But Derek kept thinking about David Rossi taking Jordan to dinner, giving her a bouquet of dark red roses, taking her out dancing until all hours of the night. He thought about Rossi in blue and Jordan in red and that dazzling smile aimed at Rossi. He thought of how Rossi had been through three marriages already, and for God's sake, he _was_ old enough to be Jordan's father! He was fifty-three, and she was just barely thirty. It was ridiculous.

Derek knew he was jealous. It wasn't an emotion he'd experienced often in his adult life, but he was familiar enough with it to recognize it when it hit him. And he hated the fact that he was jealous of David Rossi, of all people.

The guy who'd come back to the BAU just when Derek had been poised to become Lead Profiler to Hotch's Unit Chief. The guy who had history with Hotch, charm for the ladies, and was a hero figure to Reid. The guy who suddenly seemed to be the cool dude on the team, despite being almost fifteen years older than Derek.

What the hell.

A week after running into Jordan, Derek let himself into Penelope's bunker and shut the door behind him. She swung around, staring at him. "If it isn't my favorite hunky profiler," she said, beaming at him. "What can Empress Penelope do for you today?"

He folded his arms across his chest and did his best to look stern. "You can tell me what's going on with Rossi and Jordan, my goddess."

At that, her smile dropped off. "No, uh-uh, sorry, that's one thing I can't do."

"Oh yeah, you can. And you will. Or I swear, mama, I will do bad things to your computer."

She snorted. "Please. You needed me to help you access your email archive from last year. You think you're proficient enough with a keyboard to damage my computer?"

"I don't need a keyboard, mama. All I need is a Louisville Slugger."

Her mouth dropped open, her eyes widening. "You wouldn't _dare_."

He lifted his chin in challenge. "Try me."

"Derek Morgan, you are the most evil, ruthless--"

"Just tell me, mama, and nothing has to get hurt."

She glowered at him.

"And I'll buy you that purse I saw you eyeing at the mall when you helped me pick out my sister's birthday present."

Her glower vanished. "Dave and Jordan have had a dozen lunch dates since she went back to Counterterrorism. I don't know about evening dates, because when he actually thinks to mark his appointments 'private' I don't hack into them. But ever since Hotch made him start using a PDA and sharing his calendar, he's been totally anal about putting everything into it. I could tell you when his next colonoscopy is, even."

"He didn't mark that private?" Derek said, momentarily distracted. "Dude makes an appointment to get a camera put up his backside and doesn't mark that private? What the hell?"

"Why so preoccupied with Dave's backside?" Penelope said brightly.

"I'm not. So you're tellin' me that Rossi and Jordan are dating?"

"That's not exactly what I said. I said they've had a dozen lunch dates."

"And you don't know about evening dates."

She shrugged. "He marks evening things private sometimes. There are quite a few I don't know what they are, just that he was busy."

He raised his eyebrows. "I'll buy you matching shoes if you find out."

"Derek Morgan, I may be cheap but I'm not easy," she said, giving him a look of outrage. "I only hack for the forces of good, and you are most certainly being evil right now."

"Mama, you wound me," he muttered, but he leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Okay. Thank you for the intel, Penelope. You can be expecting a little red package on your doorstep any day now."

As he went back to his desk, he suddenly had a lot more on his mind.

*******

"Counterterrorism. This is Jordan Todd."

Derek leaned back in his desk chair and grinned, holding the phone to his ear. "Jordan! Derek Morgan. How's it going?"

"Wow, I've been gone for months and you never missed me, but suddenly you can't go two weeks without calling me?" She sounded amused after he identified himself. At least it was the sort of amusement that invited him to share in it, instead of just her laughing at him.

Derek laughed and drummed his fingers soundlessly against his desk. "Aw, you know, I really meant to keep in touch with you. Time just got away from me. We've been run pretty thin here lately, but I was thinking maybe you'd join me for dinner one of these nights. I could come up to the city, if you're interested."

She hummed. "Derek, I'm flattered." She didn't sound surprised, but Derek supposed he'd given away his attraction to her from the moment they'd met. A man who threw out a perfectly good cup of coffee in order to talk to a woman wasn't exactly going to have the upper hand in the courting game.

"Well, my mama's always said that flattering a woman is a good way to start," Derek said. He glanced across the bullpen, hoping none of the team would come in and catch him flirting during work time.

She laughed, as she was supposed to, but then she hummed again. "I really can't. I'm seeing someone, and while we haven't really talked about exclusivity, I think it would be unfair of me to go to dinner with someone else."

"Oh, come on, we're former coworkers," Derek wheedled. Damn David Rossi. Not only was he playing the alpha male here in the BAU, but now he was stealing Derek's girls. "Surely he can't get jealous about that."

She laughed quietly, then said, "Maybe coffee. Next time you're in the city, give me a call and we'll meet up for a brownie and a cup of coffee."

He grinned at the reference to the way they'd met. "I guess that's better than nothing," he said. He wasn't entirely convinced it _was_ better than nothing, considering she was going to lunch and dinner and God knew what else with David Rossi. But it was a start. He could beat Dave out, given time.

"I'll see you then," he promised.


	2. Chapter 2

"Whatever it is you want to tell me, you might as well just spit it out," Dave said, tapping his pen idly against his leg. "You've obviously got something eating at you."

"I really can't," Penelope said. "You said you had a question about your PDA."

"I do." Dave didn't ask it, though. He tilted his head and studied her. She was fidgety around him, which meant that she had some sort of confession she was dying to spill, but didn't think she should. Of course, that just made Dave curious. What did Penelope know that he didn't?

It would be something work-related, because she didn't know a damn thing about his personal life, he was pretty sure. Not unless she'd hacked his personnel records and looked up the names of his ex-wives. So if it was work-related, what would it be? Nothing about Hotch, because there was nothing about Hotch that Dave didn't know...or at least not much. Spencer seemed unlikely, because he didn't really seem to spend much time talking to Penelope; he seemed to confide more in Derek. Emily? Like Aaron, she talked to Dave more than to anyone else. That left JJ or Derek. And while JJ and Penelope were close, Derek and Penelope were closer.

"What?" she said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Dave realized he'd just been watching her.

"This is about Derek, isn't it?" he hazarded. Penelope was a fierce mother bear when it came to the team, but she was also the most likely of them to crack, and Dave was an expert at applying pressure.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She pressed her lips together. "You said you had a question about your PDA."

Dave watched her a moment more, then nodded. "Yeah, I can't seem to figure out how to change the privacy settings on here when I'm creating new appointments." He grinned at her. "I realized the other day that my colonoscopy appointment wasn't marked as private, and that was a little embarrassing. Especially since I discovered that while I was searching for a good time to meet with Strauss about my annual review."

Penelope's answering laughter was more like a nervous giggle than something truly amused. That meant she'd known he was shit at setting the privacy on appointments. And _that_ meant that she'd seen some of his private appointments.

"Ah," he said, still grinning. "I take it you knew about the colonoscopy too." At her blush, he just grinned wider. "Not to worry, it's just a standard precaution for a man my age." _Especially one who occasionally goes to bed with other men_, he added mentally. But she didn't necessarily need to know that.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I never meant to look at your private appointments. It's just that when they aren't _marked_ as private...well..." Her cheeks reddened further.

He snorted and waved a hand. "Why don't you show me how to stop making that mistake?" he suggested.

She walked him through the steps and laughed as he tried it out, setting up fake appointments like "Take Penelope out salsa dancing" and "Invite Derek to the Bears/Skins game". By the time he had a handle on how to set the privacy from the PDA, she'd loosened up a little. He thanked her, and then waited until she was leaving to take one last stab at what he wanted to know.

"Don't tell Derek about the game when you tell him I know what's going on."

It did the trick. She whirled on him, her eyes wide. "I'm not going to say anything to him about Jordan! It's not his business, anyway. I don't know why he's so upset about it, since he could have asked her out any time before--" She cut herself off abruptly as Dave forgot himself enough to smirk. "Oh my God, you sneaky _bastard_!" she said, but she sounded more admiring than anything. "If you tell him I told you, I'll personally make sure _everyone_ knows about your colonoscopy. I can hack into your private appointments faster than you can sign an autograph."

Dave laughed and held up a hand. "Don't worry," he promised. "This is our secret. Just don't tell him I know. Eventually things will sort themselves out."

*******

"So what are we celebrating with this brownie?" Derek asked, leaning on the table and smiling at Jordan.

She smiled back. "You remembered about celebrating things. My mother would be so pleased."

"You're not exactly an easy woman to forget," Derek said. It was true--he'd never forgotten about her, even if he hadn't quite gotten around to asking her out until he found out she was seeing Dave.

"Suuuure," she teased, but her eyes were warm with amusement.

"So what _are_ we celebrating?" he repeated.

"Maybe we're celebrating the fact that the Stud of the BAU finally remembered I'm alive," she said, arching an eyebrow.

"Ouch." He pressed a hand to his chest. "Cut me some slack, Todd, you know what the schedule's like in our unit."

"Yeah, and I know the stories I've heard about how you still seem to manage your social life just fine," she countered.

"Man, you don't have a very high opinion of me, do you?" he asked, frowning at her. The truth was, he didn't have any trouble getting dates or finding company if he didn't feel like being alone. That didn't mean that he was never lonely. There was a big difference between having company and having intimacy.

"I think you have a high enough opinion of yourself that no one else's opinion matters," she said. But a moment later she shook her head and touched his arm, which lessened the sting of her words a little. "I'm sorry, that wasn't fair. I took the banter too far."

He quirked an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair. "Huh." He sipped his coffee instead of trying to think of something to say in reply.

"You have to admit," she said, "you're not exactly the kind of man who doubts himself."

He shook his head. "That's where you've got it wrong. I doubt myself all the time. The difference is, I don't let it show. Come on, you're a woman of color in the white man's FBI. You've got to know something about fakin' it till you make it."

"That's where _you've_ got it wrong," she said. "Women advance more easily because the FBI's trying to prove it's not a white man's institution any more." She was smiling as she said it, though.

Derek made a thoughtful noise. "If you're anything like me, you want to know you got your job on merit and not because of the color of your skin."

"Yeah, or whether I wear a skirt," she agreed. "Don't worry. You're definitely where you are because you deserve it. And I think I am too." She sipped her coffee. "But enough about work. Why don't you tell me how your dog's doing."

They fell into an easy conversation about dogs, and it led naturally into talking about family. Once that was exhausted, Derek decided to turn the topic towards dating. "So...do you get to see a lot of Dave? You're yelling at me about not calling you sooner, but it's got to be just as hard to get ahold of him."

She gave him a funny smile, but only said, "We manage to see each other on a fairly regular basis."

A fairly regular basis. What did that mean? Did she want to see more of Dave? Derek remembered that she'd said her dating relationship wasn't exclusive. He wondered if Dave was seeing someone else as well as Jordan.

"That enough for you?"

She laughed. "I'm a big girl, Derek. You don't need to go yell at him for me or anything."

"Yeah, well, if you ever need it done, just say the word," he joked.

She laughed again and changed the subject to a book she'd read recently, and from there they didn't return to the topic of their love lives. Before he knew it an hour had passed and she was checking her watch.

"I have a meeting in half an hour," she said, sounding apologetic. "I really need to go over my notes before it starts."

He stood and left a tip on their table. "Thanks for having coffee with me."

She smiled. "I had a great time. Let me know next time you're in town, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am." He gave a casual salute and she smacked him on the arm. Yeah, he was definitely doing all right. Dave wouldn't know what had happened.


	3. Chapter 3

"Rossi. You got a few minutes?"

Dave looked over his shoulder at Derek, then turned back to his coffee. "Sure," he said, adding some creamer. "What's on your mind?"

"Maybe you don't want to talk about this in public," Derek said. Dave bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smirking.

"That serious? Okay then. You got enough coffee?"

"I'm good. Let's go to your office."

Dave's eyebrows went up, but he followed Derek to his office. When they got there, Dave shut the door, then walked around his desk to sit down. He set his mug on the desk, then leaned back.

"What's this about, Derek?" he asked.

Derek sat down too, setting his own mug on the desk so he could fold his arms across his chest. "This is about you, Rossi. It seems to me you're a little old for Jordan Todd."

Dave stared at him in genuine surprise for a moment, then he laughed. "You think so? Man, you really know how to hurt a guy's feelings, Derek. You think I've lost all my charm just because I have a few years on you?"

"Oh no, you're real charming, Rossi. You're too damn charming. Jordan's young enough to be your daughter, man. You shouldn't be leading her on."

Dave let his smirk escape. "What makes you think I'm leading her on?"

"You think I don't get you, Rossi? I get you. I know you do things just because people think you shouldn't."

"Then why the hell would you tell me I can't continue seeing Jordan Todd?" Dave asked. He thought it was a reasonable question.

Derek stood up, his chair going back so violently Dave was afraid it might fall over. "I don't know, maybe I was hoping you were a better man than that."

"Oh, I'm always the better man," Dave said, giving him an amused look that was calculated to piss him off. He wasn't really sure why he was pushing Derek like this, except that for whatever reason, it always seemed so easy for Dave to get a rise out of him. "But thanks for your advice, Derek."

Derek just stared at him, shaking his head, for a long moment. Then he turned and walked out of Dave's office, leaving his coffee behind.

*******

Dave's cell phone rang as he was getting ready to step onto the jet. He gestured for Hotch to go ahead of him and walked a few steps away.

"Rossi."

"You want to tell me now why I'm letting Derek Morgan think you and I are an item?"

Dave smiled. "Jordan. I'm glad you called." He didn't miss the way Derek paused on his way up the stairs, then set his shoulders and headed on into the jet.

"Ah, he's there, isn't he?" Jordan said.

"Well, he was," Dave said, amused.

"Okay, seriously, Dave, you owe me an explanation." She sounded amused, but she also sounded like she wasn't going to take his bullshit any more.

"Honestly? I'm not sure," he admitted.

"What?!"

"Hear me out," he said. "And I'm gonna have to be quick, because we're about to fly to Detroit. But it was just the way he reacted to seeing us together in the lobby. He and I have been at loggerheads practically the whole time I've been back. Yeah, he's finally gotten used to having me on the team, but I think he still believes I'm interested in taking his place, and that's not it at all."

"What is it, then?"

Spencer stuck his head out the hatch of the jet. "Dave? We're just waiting on you."

"I gotta go, kiddo," Dave said, glad for the reprieve. "I'm holding everyone up. I'll give you a call if I have some downtime on the case."

"Or you could spit it out on your way up the stairs," she said, but she sounded resigned. "Just let me know when I can go back to being a lesbian, okay?"

He laughed and flipped his phone shut.


	4. Chapter 4

Dave ended up not being able to call her from Detroit...or Windsor...or the Turner pig farm. He was too busy babysitting a self-absorbed, narcissistic, homicidal quadriplegic to even think about making phone calls about the younger agent he was trying to push into...what? What was it he was trying to accomplish, anyway?

He studied Derek from across the jet as they flew home. Derek didn't look angry so much as despondent. It wasn't a good look for him. Dave couldn't think of a time that he'd seen Derek _not_ respond with anger to things like this. Dave understood--it was easier to be angry about things than to allow yourself to display emotions like sorrow, fear, or helplessness. Dave had gotten used to the way Derek punched things to vent some of his emotions. At the same time, he knew Derek was more than just a shallow jock, and sometimes he wished the younger man would let that show.

Derek's strength was attractive, but the strength and the charm both seemed to be mechanisms to keep everyone at arm's length. No one ever got to see the real Derek Morgan, because he had to trust someone to show them the real him. It was discouraging. Dave was very much a what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of guy. Okay, yes, maybe he could be a softie underneath his gruff, in-your-face exterior, but he'd never really denied that, either.

"Hey. You got a minute?"

Dave jerked out of his thoughts and looked up to see Emily watching him. She was holding two cups. "Sure," he said, shifting so she could join him on the couch. "What's up?"

She settled down and held out one of the cups. "You're watching Derek."

Dave raised his eyebrows and thanked God he was too old and experienced to blush. "That's what you want to talk about?"

She shrugged and sipped her own coffee. "I've been watching him too. We were talking, earlier today while we were out looking for Kelly. He said he had to get away from that barn." She kept her voice low.

Dave nodded. "He's taking this kind of hard, isn't he?" he murmured.

"I think so. I'm worried about him. And I figured since you've been watching him all night, maybe you're worried about him too. Could you talk to him or something?"

Dave's eyebrows went up again. "Me? Emily, he's a lot less likely to listen to me than he is to listen to you. For one thing, you two are friends."

She frowned. "He likes you, Dave. I think he admires you." She shrugged. "Even if he'd never admit it."

Dave chuckled. "Alpha males. Aaron and I have always done well together because he doesn't have much ego but he's not afraid to kick my ass when necessary. Derek..." He trailed off and shrugged. "I don't know, but I think you'd be better off talking to him." He patted her arm. "Just go sit with him. Listen if he talks. Being there for him is the best thing you can do."

She studied him for a bit longer, then nodded. She stood. "You...don't think I'm giving him the wrong signals, do you?"

"You're his friend," he said. "Do you want more than that?"

She shook her head. "I'm not the kind of person he needs."

"I think you're fine."

He watched as she went to get another cup of coffee, then went over to sit across from Derek. She held out the cup, and after a moment he took it. They sat together without talking for a long time, just sipping their coffee. Dave finally quit stealing surreptitious glances at them for fear of someone else catching him, but when he turned his attention to his book, they still didn't appear to have spoken a word.

By the time they got back to Quantico, Dave was almost as worried about Aaron as he was Derek. Aaron seemed discouraged too, and he had always been good at taking on the troubles of his entire team. Even back when he was younger he'd been good at that. Dave watched him as they left the elevator and filed into the bullpen, and then realized he wasn't the only one watching him.

 

 

Derek's eyes were following the unit chief too. He watched as Hotch walked into his office and shut the door with a firm click. A moment later he realized, as their eyes met, that he and Dave had been doing the same thing. Derek jerked his gaze away, feeling an odd flush of heat go through him. Embarrassment at having been caught, he supposed, and it annoyed him.

But when he glanced at Dave again, he saw that the other man had apparently dismissed it; he was frowning at Hotch's closed office door. That was the thing about Rossi, the really damned annoying thing about Rossi. He cared about people.

He might be an asshole who pushed until you were ready to give him what he wanted just to shut him up, but he really cared about people. He obviously respected and trusted Hotch, which was a good thing, because it was one of the things Derek had never liked about Gideon. Hotch was a good man and a good agent, the best team leader Derek had ever worked for, and deserving of everyone's respect. And Rossi gave it to him. More than that, Rossi seemed to genuinely like everyone on the team. He was demanding, but he cared.

But his demeanor drove Derek crazy sometimes. He could work with him, no problem, because Rossi was a good agent and a damn good profiler. More and more he found himself turning to Rossi when he wanted confirmation on something. But when it came to personal interaction, Derek preferred to limit it.

Which was why he was surprised when he looked up from his desk later in the evening and found Rossi standing a few feet away, watching him with a considering expression on his face.

"What?" Derek said automatically, then wished he hadn't reacted so defensively.

Rossi shook his head faintly. "Just thinking." After a moment he shrugged. "You want to get a drink?"

Derek's eyebrows went up and he surveyed the other man for a moment. What the hell. "Sure." He could definitely use one, and whatever was on Rossi's mind, the alcohol would be welcome.

Twenty minutes later they were sitting across from each other in the Quantico bar, Dave with a glass of single malt scotch in front of him, Derek small batch bourbon. For a while they drank in silence, just sips and slow exhales afterwards. Every once in a while Derek glanced up at Dave, or Dave glanced up at Derek. It actually began to settle, to feel comfortable.

Of course, that was when Dave broke the silence. "Was it DeDe Hightower that bothered you the most, or Lucas Turner?"

Derek stared at him for a long moment, annoyed (though not really surprised) that Dave would ask. First he had to decide whether to answer it or not. Once he'd decided to, he had to think about what that answer would be. "Both," he said finally. "DeDe first. Seeing every last shred of hope go out of that man..." He shook his head. "I hated having to do that to him."

Dave sipped his drink. "You were just the messenger."

"Still."

Dave nodded.

"And then Lucas..." Derek sighed and took a gulp of his bourbon. "I've known guys like him. There were a couple who stayed around the Upward Youth Center where I hung out as a kid. Really innocent guys, but easy to lead. Childlike, more than the rest of us. Trusting." He paused. "And big." He'd never thought about whether or not Carl had abused them. He didn't think so, though. Carl was attracted to the best and the brightest. It had been Derek. It had been James Barfield. It wouldn't have been Sam or Billy.

"And people took advantage of them," Dave prompted.

Derek shook his head. "Nah, we protected them. There was one guy, yeah, who would have liked to. But the rest of us looked out for those two. Kept an eye on them, tried to be good influences." He shrugged. "Sam ended up running drugs for one of the local bangers anyway. He died in a driveby. Billy's still around, I think, living in his mama's house."

He hadn't thought of them in years, but Lucas Turner had brought it all back.

"Hotch said Kelly was trying to protect Lucas when you found her," Dave said.

"She told him to hold still and put his hands in the air. She told him not to move fast." Derek rubbed a hand over his face. "It was more than Stockholm Syndrome. She could see that someone was taking advantage of him. She's a good kid."

Dave nodded.

"I told the SWAT shooters to stand down," Derek said. "I was screaming it, trying to make 'em stop. But..." He sighed.

"You did all you could, Derek," Dave said quietly. But he didn't push the issue. And the thing was, Derek knew that was true. He _had_ done everything he could. But it wasn't enough. All too often it wasn't enough. And how much longer could he put up with that, giving his all and getting nothing in return, just a hollow victory and a sense of defeat?

Dave drained his glass and reached out. Derek wasn't sure what he was going to do, but at that moment Dave's cell phone rang. He answered it with a brisk, "Rossi," and listened. As Derek watched, Rossi's face drained of all color. "We'll be right there." He stood up and snapped the phone shut. "Finish that now."

Derek obeyed automatically, then felt a flush of annoyance that he'd done so. "What's going on?" he demanded, slipping out of his chair to follow.

Dave spoke only one word. "Hotch."


	5. Chapter 5

Dave ignored Derek's questions as they sped towards Hotch's apartment. He'd been there half a dozen times, sometimes after cases that had been difficult, a couple of times just to spent a little time with a friend. He knew where he was going, and he intended to get there fast. He was trying to put together the facts he'd been given, but they didn't seem to add up. How could Hotch be _missing_? That sort of thing didn't happen to BAU agents. Not at home, anyway. Sure, you could end up in a situation like Gideon had had in Boston, or the way Reid and Emily had in Colorado. But Hotch was at _home_.

Derek's fist slammed against the dash. "What is going on, Dave?" He was pissed off, and Dave shook himself.

"Hotch is missing," he said tersely. "Someone made a 911 call from his apartment, reporting an intruder. They heard a gunshot in the background. When the police arrived at his apartment, they found signs of a struggle--furniture overturned, blood and whiskey spilled on the floor."

Derek swore. Dave agreed whole-heartedly. "What the hell? Was it Hotch that made the call?"

"They don't know. They're getting a copy of it rushed to our office. We'll be working this case ahead of anything else, of course." Dave's heart was thudding in his chest. He didn't have so many friends that he could afford to lose any. Especially not someone as close and important to him as Aaron.

"What are the odds of a random intruder at the home of the BAU unit chief?" Derek asked.

"Reid could tell you." Of course, it _wasn't_ a random intruder. Dave forced himself to relax his white-knuckled grip and pulled a hand away from the steering wheel to flex it. He wished to God he didn't have to say the next thing. "They found a Glock 17 on the floor too. They said it had been reported stolen from an FBI agent in Boston several months ago." He glanced over at Derek. "It had been fired twice."

He was expecting Derek to explode. Instead, the younger man just stared at him for a long time. Then he slowly shook his head. "No," he muttered. "No, no no. That...that can't be..."

"He could have gotten rid of it," Dave said. It was possible. Not probable, but possible.

"Foyet. George Foyet. Fucking bastard." Derek's voice was still too quiet. Too controlled. Dave almost wanted him to explode. He knew what to do with Derek's temper--you just rode out the explosion and a few minutes later he'd be seeing sense. But this calm, this was something Dave didn't think he'd seen before. He didn't know how to take it.

"We'll get him," Dave promised. He took a corner too fast and felt the back wheels skid a little before he regained control. He eased up a little on the gas, but then he felt himself straining forward in his seat, as if that would make them get there faster. "Hotch is counting on us."

"I hope so," Derek whispered. He rubbed his face with a hand and said something else that Dave didn't catch.

"What?" he prompted. But Derek didn't repeat it.

They pulled into the apartment parking lot with a squeal of tires. Derek had the door open before Dave had even finished braking. Dave was barely moments behind, and they were pounding up the stairs to the crime scene.

When they got inside, they found crime scene analysts all over, taking pictures, collecting fibers, doing their thing. The police detective in charge of the scene saw them arrive and came over.

"Agent Rossi? Detective Markham. It's a pleasure to meet you, but I wish it were under different circumstances. We've put a rush on processing all the evidence. Your technical analyst said she would work on the 911 call. We've lifted prints off the gun, and I'm getting those processed as we speak."

"No need," Dave said. "Your perp is a man by the name of George Foyet. He's killed over thirty people in Boston over the past ten years, and he targeted Agent Hotchner specifically."

Markham got a recalcitrant expression on his face. It was one Dave got really damned tired of seeing on local cops. Why couldn't they understand that the BAU was there to _help_ them, dammit? He felt like he wasted more time explaining things to the cops than actually looking for the bad guys.

"No offense, Agent Rossi, but I'd like to run the prints."

"Go ahead," Dave said. "Foyet's the guy who assaulted Agent Morgan here and stole his Glock. We know who he is and how he operates. So while you're wasting your time and resources running prints, the BAU is going to be looking for George Foyet."

Markham looked at Derek. "That your gun?" he asked, gesturing to it.

"Looks like it. But you said you already ran the serial number, and it's registered to me. So maybe you oughta take on faith that we know what we're talking about." Derek wasn't being any friendlier than Dave. Which wasn't a surprise under the circumstances, but usually he did a better job at sweet-talking people than Dave did.

Markham all but rolled his eyes. "Okay, how about you guys work your angle while I work mine, huh? I'll share all my information freely if you'll do the same."

Dave shrugged. "We already have," he said. "You didn't like it."

"What time did Agent Hotchner arrive home?"

"It's hard to say, but I know he left Quantico at the same time I did," Dave said. "We walked out to the parking lot together. He got a call on his cell phone when we were almost at my car. It sounded like he was talking to his son, but I wouldn't swear to that." He would, actually, and he was planning on calling Haley and Jack the minute they got out of here, to see how long they talked.

Detective Markham was nodding as he took notes.

"Did you stick around for any of that conversation?" he asked.

"Didn't see any reason to," Dave admitted. "Hotch said he was heading home, so I took him at his word. I assume he went straight home, but I'd have to check his phone records against the time of the 911 call to be sure."

"Yeah, we'll do that," Markham said. "I suppose I can pretty much count on you feds working this case." He didn't look too hopeful that Dave was going to dash his hopes, and Dave didn't see any reason to disillusion him.

He opened his mouth to reply, but Derek spoke first.

"Yeah, you can," he said. He got up in Markham's space, and Dave saw, not for the first time, how incredibly imposing Derek could be when he needed to. "And you can count on us being the ones that find him."

Derek shouldn't be sexy when he was threatening a local cop. Shouldn't be. But without question, he was.

*******

Derek stormed out of Hotch's apartment pissed off at himself, Foyet, and the world, in that order. He could tell Rossi was behind him, but he didn't pay any attention. He didn't give a shit what Rossi had to say. Derek just wanted to find something--or someone--to hit. Hard.

"Derek--"

"Save it, Rossi," Derek bit out, cutting him off.

"Save what? You don't even know what the hell I was gonna say."

"Don't care, either," Derek said. He paused and wheeled to glare at Rossi. "I don't care if you were gonna tell me not to blame myself. I don't care if you were gonna promise me that we're gonna catch Foyet. I don't care if you were gonna ask me what we should do first. I don't even fucking care if you were about to tell me the sky is falling. Just get out of my space and leave me the fuck alone."

Dave didn't look impressed. "What exactly do you think any of us could have done differently?" he asked. "Hotch could have moved, changed his name, gone into hiding? You could have magically kept from being knocked out? Granted, your head is hard enough, but obviously even you have your limitations."

"Fuck _off_, Rossi!" Derek burst out.

To his shock, Rossi lunged forward instead, grabbing Derek by the shoulders in a move that almost got him punched in the gut. Instead, once Derek realized Rossi wasn't trying to hurt him, he had to focus his attention on pulling his punch, so Rossi had born him back against the wall and was in his face before Derek quite realized what was going on.

"Do you think you're the only Goddamn person who loves Hotch? You think you've got a monopoly on blaming yourself? Think there's a mystical connection between you and Foyet that should have let you know what he was intending?" Rossi laughed derisively. "Get over yourself, _Derek_! You're only one man, and you're only human. You couldn't have known what was going to happen any more than the rest of us did. And while you're a smart man with your own talents, you're not a special unique snowflake who has the right to brood because Hotch is gone."

Derek stared at him, opened his mouth, but couldn't form any words.

"I'm sick to fucking death of your drama queen habits, and I'll tell you right now that it's not going to fly. Not here, not now. Not while Aaron is out there somewhere, hurt, probably scared, and _counting on us_ to find him and make things right." Dave's hands squeezed Derek's shoulders. "He's relying on us. You, me, JJ, Emily, Spencer, Garcia. _Us_. He knows damn well that no local cop in the world is gonna find Foyet in time. But we _know_ Foyet. We've hunted him once, and we'll hunt him again. So get the fuck over yourself and _get to work_."

Rossi let go of him and pulled away, and only then did Derek realize that they'd been pressed hard against each other. Rossi's fingers were probably going to leave bruises. And Derek was breathless with something more than anger.

He leaned against the wall, nursing hurt feelings and the sickness of guilt, and couldn't deny that Rossi was one sexy motherfucker.


	6. Chapter 6

"Okay, where do we start?" Emily asked. They were gathered at the round table less than an hour later. Garcia had confirmed that it wasn't Hotch's voice on the 911 recording. After comparing it to the 911 calls made during the Reaper's peak of activity, she'd told them she was certain it was Foyet who had placed the call.

"There was that reporter," JJ said. "What was his name...Ray Colson. Hotch was friendly with him. He knows more about Foyet than anyone except Hotch."

"Good," Rossi said. "Call him. Get him down from Boston if you can."

"The eyes. Fate." Reid was fingering his lower lip. Derek recognized the expression on his face as the one the genius wore when he was mulling over things in his head that didn't quite connect for him yet. He would make the connection. Derek was sure of it.

"He didn't leave an eye at Hotch's apartment," Emily said.

"Why?" Derek said. "Does he not think this is fate? Maybe he recognizes this one as something personal."

"He left your gun," Reid pointed out. "He wouldn't do something careless like that by accident. He wanted us to know it was him."

"He's taunting us," Rossi said. "He's arrogant."

"Why?" Reid said. "Why would he taunt us?"

"He wants us to look for Hotch?" Emily suggested.

"Why didn't he just kill Hotch outright?" Reid said. A moment later he seemed to realize what he'd said, and a sick expression crossed his face. "Sorry, I meant--"

"No, it's a good question," Rossi broke in. He nodded to Spencer. "When we were in Boston, he killed Sergeant O'Mara. He didn't kill Morgan because Morgan was unconscious. He couldn't identify him. But that wasn't his motivation for not killing other people, was it? He usually killed in pairs--couples."

JJ's head jerked up from where she'd been making notes. "You think he'd go after Haley?" she asked.

Rossi looked grim. "I think there's a good possibility."

"I'll call her."

"I talked to them earlier," Rossi said. "I wanted to know exactly what Aaron had said to her and Jack. Turns out it wasn't much, just making sure Jack was doing okay, saying hi and he loved him, that sort of thing."

"Did you tell her she was in danger?" Derek asked.

"What kind of asshole do you think I am?" Rossi retorted. "Scratch that, I don't want to know. Of course I told her she was in danger. She said she and Jack would go stay with a friend."

Reid was nodding. "So we've eliminated his family as targets. You don't think Foyet would stay around here, do you? The other logical targets would be Hotch's brother or the team."

"I'll call Sean," JJ said, and Garcia sighed.

"Any other time, I'd be happy to volunteer for that job," she said, wiping away a tear that was slipping down her cheek. "Right now you couldn't give me a million dollars to do that."

Derek reached out and looped an arm around Garcia's shoulders, squeezing her gently. "Hey, we'll figure this out, baby girl," he said. "We'll find him." He hoped he was telling her the truth.

"What would he do with Hotch in the meantime?" Dave asked. "He would have to have a place to hold him."

"He's had plenty of time to plan it," Derek said. "He might not have had this exact plan in mind when he stole my gun and badge, but he's a smart guy, and he takes his time planning things out. Look at the way he had plans for all the federal prisons in Massachusetts already. He'd memorized ways to escape. He'll have an elaborate plan for Hotch."

Dave was nodding. "And he would have thought of some way to get to Haley."

"We ought to have people watching her house," Derek said. "Maybe find a blonde woman we can put in the house to make him think she doesn't know what's going on."

"Would he believe that?" JJ objected.

"If the divorce were hostile enough, yeah," Dave said. Derek thought he heard a world of regret in those words. Maybe he was just imagining it.

Garcia made an involuntary noise and Derek glanced over at her automatically. When she saw him looking she tried to close the laptop, but he stopped her.

"What is it, mama?"

The others turned to look, and Garcia gave him a miserable glance. "There's a record of someone accessing Hotch's address two weeks ago. It...was your badge number." She paused just long enough for a sick feeling to accumulate in the pit of Derek's stomach. "Your _old_ badge number."

Derek wanted to punch something. He told himself it wouldn't help and it wouldn't make him feel better. He just clenched his fists, his jaw working as he tried to suppress the surge of rage those words caused. "Okay," he said finally. He knew his voice was tight, but he told himself he was under control. "Okay. Now we know how he got the information. Can you find out what else he learned while he was pretending to be me?"

"And while you're at it, find out what jackass didn't run the badge number when he was giving out sensitive information like an FBI unit chief's _home address_," Rossi said. His voice was hard, and Derek had the feeling someone was going to pay for that. Of course, Hotch seemed to be Rossi's closest friend.

"He got Derek's address too, sir," Garcia said, tapping away at her keyboard. "And yours."

"Just the three of us?" Rossi confirmed. She nodded.

"It makes sense," Reid pointed out. "You were the three he interacted with."

Dave nodded slowly. "Get me SWAT from Washington Field," he told JJ. "Emily, Derek and I are going to go check out Derek's house. It could be Foyet's trying to pin this whole thing on Derek."

JJ nodded and had her BlackBerry to her ear before Dave was done speaking.

"Reid, you get in touch with that reporter. Read his book. See what he had to say about Foyet, and what he can tell us that isn't in the book. Garcia, keep working on what Foyet might have done with Derek's badge number. See if you can find any ballistic reports that match Derek's Glock."

Derek and Emily were on their feet in an instant. "I'm driving," Derek said.

"Only if you promise you'll keep your temper," Dave said. "This still isn't about you. It's about getting Hotch back. You understand me?"

"I'm not out for revenge," Derek assured him. He wasn't entirely certain it was the truth. "I just want Hotch safe."

 

Dave wanted to keep an eye on Derek, but he knew it would look bad. It wasn't a lack of trust that motivated it. He just worried Derek would get carried away and do something ridiculously stupid. He didn't want to get Hotch back only to lose Derek. His heart jolted at the thought.

SWAT was already in place around the house. Derek was flagged down by the team leader, a man by the name of Stafford. As Derek, Dave, and Emily got their Kevlar vests on and checked their weapons, Stafford explained that they'd already secured the perimeter and didn't think anyone was inside.

"My dog, Clooney," Derek said, and Dave felt a little warmer towards him just because he had a dog.

Stafford shrugged. "We didn't pick up any movement, but unless he's taller than the windows, we wouldn't. Not to mention your guy could be in there and just holding steady. Got any interior rooms?"

"Just the bathrooms," Derek said. "But there's a basement."

"Yeah, we saw it. Nothing going on in the windows, but it looks like you got a pretty nice entertainment system."

"Yeah, well, get Hotch back for us, and I'll have y'all over for a Cubs game," Derek said sourly. "Come on, let's get in there."

They did their thing, approaching as swiftly and silently as possible, Derek covering Dave and Emily covering Derek. Dave couldn't help but think that Hotch ought to be here too. The three of them worked well together, but it felt incomplete. He gestured for Emily to stick with Derek, then headed around to the back himself, Stafford covering him. He had to let them inside a wooden fence to get to the back door, then he positioned himself to go in through the garage.

He kicked the door in without feeling bad about it. Derek had busted in enough in his life to deserve a couple broken doors himself. The garage had a Ducati SportClassic GT1000, a push mower, a Weedeater, and more power tools than Dave had ever seen. It had no trace of Foyet, Hotch, or any kind of a struggle. There was oil on the floor with cat litter scattered over it to soak it up. Dave told himself he wasn't here to profile his colleague, and tested the door to the house.

It was locked, so he kicked that one in too, and found himself in the kitchen. It was empty and smelled like Derek had forgotten to take the trash out before they'd gone to Ontario. "Clear!" he called.

"Clear!" came Emily's voice, and a moment later Derek echoed her. They worked through the main floor quickly, Dave forcing himself not to admire the leather recliners and expensive entertainment system. Derek had said there were two bedrooms upstairs and a weight set in the basement. Emily went up, Dave and Derek went down. In a matter of five minutes they had cleared the house.

Foyet and Hotch weren't there.

As they reconvened in the kitchen, the SWAT team going through it behind them to double-check their work, Derek was swearing under his breath.

"It was too easy," Dave said. "We had to make sure he wasn't here, but after all, Foyet had to know you'd be coming back. He'll have a hard enough time holding one FBI agent, let alone two."

"Why would he give a damn?" Derek demanded. "He's already had me once, he ought to know he can take me again."

Dave sighed. "Don't start that bullshit again," he said. "I'm tired of it already."

"Derek," Emily said, her voice curious. "Your answering machine is blinking."

Derek crossed the room and hit the button. The first two messages were from his mom and some girl he'd met. The third message was different. It started out with a long inhalation, then a sigh. "I'll offer you a deal, Derek," said a voice. "You stop hunting me, I'll give you his body back when I'm done with him."

"Fuck!" Derek burst out, staring in horror at the machine. Dave was fumbling for his phone, but Emily was faster.

"Garcia, I'm going to play a message for you. Can you record it over the phone and analyze it? I'll get you the actual recording as soon as I can." She was silent for a moment, then hit the replay button on the machine and let Garcia hear the message.

"So he did want to get you involved," Dave said. He was frowning. "This isn't what I was expecting, but it makes sense. He offered Hotch a deal when we were in Boston."

"He did?" Derek turned to stare at him. "This is the first I've heard of it."

"Right before the bus shooting. He called Hotch's hotel room and offered him the same deal he'd given to Tom Shaunessy. Hotch hung up on him."

"That was why Hotch was so upset about the bus shooting," Emily said.

"Yeah. You don't think Derek has a monopoly on blaming himself, do you?" Dave said wryly. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you people that the UNSUBs do what they're going to do regardless of our actions. It never seems to take."

"Shut up," Derek said. "We all saw how you were about Zoe Hawkes"

Dave sighed. "Look. Let's get out of here. Get your dog, Derek. You can't stay here tonight. Foyet knows where you live."

"He won't come here," Derek protested. "Not after this."

"For that matter, he knows where you live, Dave," Emily pointed out.

Dave nodded. "I'll have JJ book us both into a hotel. Quietly." He glanced over at Derek. "How's the Ritz sound to you?" he joked.

Derek didn't look like he was capable of laughing right now. "Make it somewhere that takes dogs," he said.

"I'll take Clooney," Emily said. "He's a good dog."

Dave raised his eyebrows, wondering when Emily and Derek had started spending time together. He wondered if he'd read things wrong.

Emily saw his expression and gave him a wry smile. "He renovates, I decorate," she said. "Turns out we're pretty good business partners." She flipped open her phone and dialed someone.

Dave nodded slowly; he hadn't known about the renovations, but it made sense. This was a pretty nice house for a guy who Dave knew was sending money to his mother and sisters back in Chicago.

When Derek came back, Dave learned that Clooney was a friendly mutt. Derek handed Emily a bag of dog food and held out the leash. Emily got off the phone and turned to face them. "JJ has a room for you guys. You'll have to share; apparently it's graduation weekend, and the Nationals are in town."

Derek rolled his eyes and shoved past them both, heading to the garage to secure the back door. When the house was secure, Derek said he'd meet Dave at the hotel. He was going to take his bike.

"That's ridiculous, your car is at Quantico," Dave objected.

"Doesn't matter. I'll get it back here later. See you there." Without a backward glance, Derek was gone.

Dave heard a quiet chuckle behind him and turned to glare at Emily. "What?"

She shook her head. "Good luck with him," she said. "I'm pretty sure he's going to be the worst company you've ever shared a hotel room with."

Dave arched an eyebrow at her. "I don't know, you never met my third wife."


	7. Chapter 7

After he dropped Emily and Clooney back at Quantico and got to the hotel, he discovered Derek had beaten him there. Not that he was surprised, but it was annoying that Derek would have his choice of beds. It was stupid to get annoyed over something like that, but Dave always slept in the bed next to the bathroom. Call it paranoia, but he didn't like being too close to the window.

He let himself into the room and found Derek sprawled on the bed Dave wanted. He had a half-full rocks glass in his hand, and three minibar bottles were empty on the nightstand. Great. Not only was Derek brooding, but now he was going to be drunk and brooding.

Dave dropped his bag on the floor, unwilling to concede defeat by taking the bed by the window. "What's your problem?" he demanded, glaring at Derek.

"My problem?" Derek repeated, staring at him. "My _problem_? Man, you are something else. Hotch is missing, Foyet used my badge and gun to get him, and we don't know where they hell they are or what the hell Foyet's going to do to him...and you ask me what my _problem_ is? What's _your_ problem?"

"My problem, at the moment," Dave said, "is some young punk thinks he's going to sleep in the bed by the bathroom. Not to mention the fact that he's drunk and brooding, and I'm just not in the mood to do any more babysitting for the night."

"Fuck you, Rossi!" Derek said. "I'm sick to death of your superior attitude. You might have been top dog once, but you're not running this department any more, and you're no better than the rest of us, no matter how much money you've got."

Dave blinked at him, surprised. "You think I think I'm better than you?" he said, and shook his head. "No, Derek. That's not it at all. Are you kidding? The thing is, I see too much of myself in you. You're passionate, you're driven, and one of these days you're going to burn out. You're pushing yourself too hard and taking too much on yourself. You'll end up walking away just like I did, and regretting it every day of your life--just like I did. I don't want to see you with three failed marriages and a drinking habit just because you repeated mistakes I'd already made."

"We are _nothing_ alike," Derek snapped. "You and me got nothing in common."

"Other than the fact that we're both from Chicago? Other than the fact that we both keep a hell of a lot of ourselves private while pretending to be charming and open? Other than the fact that family is important to us both?" Dave shrugged. "Maybe you're right. I happen to think we have a lot in common."

Derek snorted. "Yeah, well, at least we know we got the same taste in women," he muttered.

"Unavailable?" Dave said, smiling faintly.

"Yeah, sure, that's why Jordan Todd looks like you hung the moon every time you're around."

"She's a good kid," Dave said amiably. "But I'm not dating her, Derek."

"Sure you're not." Derek drained his glass.

"What's the real problem here, Derek?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Derek demanded. There was a defensive edge to his voice that told Dave he was on the right track.

"Just what it sounds like," he said, countering Derek's question with a cryptic statement of his own. "What's the real problem here? Why are you really angry at me? It's not Jordan."

"The hell it's not," Derek muttered, and surged up off the bed. Even with that warning, Dave didn't see it coming; he was surprised when Derek's hands closed on his shoulders. A moment later Derek was pushing him back against the wall. Dave could have fought it off--despite the fact that he left the tackling and chasing to younger agents most of the time, he could still pull it off--but he was curious about Derek's intentions. So he let Derek push him backwards, pressing their bodies together. It was unexpected, for all that Dave had deduced some time ago that there was chemistry between them.

"You want to know what the real problem is, Rossi?" Derek grated. He leaned up into Dave's personal space, their faces only a few inches apart. Derek looked angry. Dave thought, as always, that the spark of passion in his eyes was very flattering. "The real problem is that I can't fucking get you out of my head, and it's driving me fucking crazy."

Dave couldn't deny he was a little breathless. Derek was damn sexy when he took charge like that. "Then do something about it," he murmured, daring Derek with his gaze.

Derek took the dare. He glared at Dave for a moment, then lunged in and pressed their lips together. It was almost a mockery of a kiss, it was so angry and rough. Dave didn't really mind, but he did object to Derek treating this like it was nothing more than anger being channeled into lust. So Dave met the kiss, but he didn't let Derek control it. He slid a hand up to curl against the back of Derek's head, then wrapped an arm around the trim waist. He pulled Derek closer, shifting against Derek, coaxing him with lips and tongue into a more gentle kiss.

Derek went for it. He groaned and leaned in against Dave, letting him have a hint of teeth as one hand went up to stroke through Dave's hair. God, Derek was sexy. Dave echoed Derek's groan, tightening his arm around Derek's waist. He wanted this like he hadn't wanted anything in a long time. Derek was young and sexy and passionate and a damn good agent, and Dave wanted him in his bed.

The kiss gentled, then grew more demanding, more passionate. It changed from a duel of tongue and lips into a conversation of sorts, a dialogue between them that told Dave what Derek wanted, and vice versa. Of course, Dave got a little more explicit when he let a hand slip down to cup Derek's ass, but he didn't really think that was a problem.

Derek gasped and arched against him, and then he was tugging Dave towards the bed. Their hands fumbled with buttons and zippers, tugging shirts over heads. They pushed their shoes off and Derek shoved his go bag off the bed. Then they were tumbling together onto the bed, half naked and still kissing. Dave's hands were stroking down those incredible washboard abs and Derek's fingers were in Dave's hair. Dave's lips trailed down Derek's throat to bite at his Adam's apple, eliciting a moan. Then they were rocking against each other as they kissed. Dave wondered if Derek had ever had sex with a man before. He wondered if it mattered.

Their combined lust built too rapidly to be contained or channeled. It was only a few minutes before Derek was gasping and arching under Dave, and then hot, sticky come flowed between them. Dave's name was on Derek's lips, which was flattering. When Dave came a minute later, it was more quietly, but with focus.

They came down slowly from the high of sex, and Derek's hands were never completely still on Dave's body. They trailed across his back, stroked up his arms, slid down to cup his ass... Before long Dave was following suit and he could tell they were both getting wound up again.

"Condom?" Dave murmured, trying to make it as more than one question: _Where are the condoms_ went hand in hand with _Is this okay_.

Derek fumbled behind him, then pushed Dave away for a minute. He had a condom in his wallet. Of course he did. Dave almost laughed, but there was something endearing and almost vulnerable about how Derek pulled it out of his wallet and looked defiantly at Dave. _I dare you to make fun of me for this_, his expression said, and Dave couldn't take that dare.

"Want you so much," he murmured, kissing along Derek's jaw as Derek rolled the condom on Dave's dick. "_Have_ wanted you for so long. God, so gorgeous, Derek."

"Such an asshole, Dave," Derek countered, but Dave just laughed and lifted his head to kiss him hungrily.

The didn't have lube, so Dave made do with spit, working for a long time to prepare Derek and make it feel good for him. He could feel Derek tense up a few times, which made him think this _was_ Derek's first time with another man. But every time Derek took a deep breath and deliberately relaxed, his gaze steady on Dave's, so Dave didn't worry about it. Derek could say no if he didn't want this. And everything Derek was doing indicated that he _did_ want this.

To try to loosen Derek up a little more, Dave sucked his cock before trying to enter him. He didn't bring Derek to climax because he wanted Derek hard while they actually fucked. But he knew more than enough to bring Derek pleasure while keeping him constantly below the edge. When they got to the point where Derek was swearing and insisting it was time, Dave pressed inside, provoking Derek to cry out even as Dave gave a low moan.

Their first movements together were tentative, hesitant. Then Derek apparently realized that Dave didn't want to hurt him, and Dave realized that Derek was meeting his every thrust eagerly. At that point they both abandoned themselves to pleasure. They kissed and touched and fucked for what felt like a long time, wrapped up in their own little moment as they were.

Dave came first, which wasn't how he'd intended it, but he moved down and took Derek's dick in his mouth again. He was a little out of practice, but he didn't take long to remember all his blow job techniques. He lapped at Derek's slit and swept his tongue around the shaft. Then he took Derek deep and sucked hard, watching his expression intently.

It didn't take long for Derek to come, and then Dave was stretched alongside him. He stroked Derek's chest and smiled, kissing his shoulder.

"That's a lot better than I was expecting tonight," he murmured. "I just thought we were gonna fight."

Derek grunted. "We did that first. Go to sleep, Dave."

Well, that answered the question of whether or not they would share. Dave had to admit it was nice that he wasn't just being kicked out of Derek's bed at the end of their romp. He chuckled and shifted to get a little more comfortable, then let himself slip into sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Derek knew from the moment he woke up wrapped up in strong arms that he'd made the biggest fucking mistake of his life.

The person pressed against him snored in his ear again and Derek had to fight not to tense up. God, what had he been _thinking_ last night? He'd let Rossi _fuck_ him! He hadn't let anyone fuck him in twenty years. There had come a night that Carl Buford touched his neck in that familiar possessive, intimidating gesture...and Derek had pushed him away so violently Carl limped for a week. And from that moment forward, Derek had never approached another man. The few times other men had approached him, he had responded with rudeness at best and violence at worst.

And now Derek was lying naked, limbs tangled, with the pushiest, brashest alpha male he'd ever met.

Derek worked one arm free and rubbed his face, trying to summon a little presence of mind. Instead he just felt his heart pounding and his stomach churning. This had been so fucking stupid. _It was so damn good_, whispered a voice in his mind. _Giving up control. Letting Dave take what he wanted...what you both wanted..._ Derek took a breath that was suddenly shaky. It had felt good to give up control to someone he knew he could trust. And that was exactly why this had been a mistake.

"What are you worked up about?" murmured a sleepy voice. Dave's goatee tickled his neck as lips found his skin and kissed lazily.

"Nothin', man," Derek said. He pulled out of Dave's arms. "We need to get outta bed and get our asses on the street."

Dave made a noise of regret, but he sat up, rubbing his face. Derek got out of bed and pulled his shorts on, already scanning the room for his jeans. Dave had an unforgivable draw to him when he was sleepy and not quite as sharp as usual. Derek squelched the thought hard. _Don't go there again_, he told himself.

God, his ass was sore. He'd always had a hard and fast rule not to sleep around on a case. And now they were facing the most important case of their lives, and he'd not only fucked around, but he'd fucked around with the _lead agent_ on the case. "God damn it," he breathed, and pulled his shirt over his head. "Come on, Rossi," he barked. "We need to get back to work."

"Excuse me?" Dave's voice had bite to it, and it took Derek a moment to realize he'd called him by his last name.

"Excuse you what?" Derek countered. "Come on. Get your ass in gear."

"Do we have a problem here?" Dave asked.

Derek turned to face him, pulling on his game face as he did. "I got no problems," he said, glancing at Dave and then looking away. "Do you?"

Dave sat up all the way, the sheets pooling around his waist. "Actually, I think I do," he said, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Derek. "It's kind of a problem for me when I spend the night with someone who can't look me in the face or call me by my name the next morning."

Derek rolled his eyes. "My God, Rossi, we haven't got time for that. So we blew off a little steam last night. That's all it was. Big fucking deal. We've gotta find Hotch before the trail goes cold. Will you get out of bed?"

Dave shook his head. "The trail isn't going to go cold and you know it," he said. "Foyet's going to continue baiting us until this ends. One way or another."

"Yeah, and I'd just as soon it not end with my unit chief dead and tortured!" Derek snapped back. "So I'll say it again, do you think you can get your head in the game and your ass out of bed, or are we gonna solve the case for you?"

It was a hit below the belt, and he knew it even as he delivered it. Dave had always, _always_, pulled his weight on this team. And when he fucked up, he did his best to fix it. He'd bought into the team idea and run with it. He did better with it, in point of fact, than Derek did.

Dave straightened slightly, his eyes narrowing further. Then his expression smoothed out and he nodded. "Fine," he said quietly. "I'll get my ass out of bed, Agent Morgan. And while you're checking in with the team, I'm going to take a shower."

He got up with more dignity than Derek had expected. He didn't bother putting on any clothes or reaching for the complimentary robe. He just walked naked to the bathroom, giving Derek plenty of time to fight not to ogle the body that had touched him just right last night. The door shut quietly, the shower went on, and Derek was left feeling like the biggest asshole in the world.

 

The ride to the BAU was chilly. The silence between them was broken only once, when Dave took a call on his cell phone. He listened for several moments, said, "Yes," and, "Keep me posted," and hung up. He didn't explain what the call was about.

When they got into the conference room, JJ and Emily were already there.

Derek looked around. "Where's Reid?"

"He's back at Hotch's apartment," Emily said. "With that detective from last night, Markham."

"What's up?" Derek asked.

Emily gave him a puzzled look. "Didn't you ride in with Dave?"

Dave sipped his coffee and looked at Derek, who did his best not to squirm under the scrutiny.

"Yeah, well, pretend I don't know," he said finally. He knew it was a lame comeback. Dave snorted.

Emily glanced at Dave, then back at Derek, her brow furrowed. "Reid's still bothered by the eyes. He said there must be something we missed at Hotch's apartment. He wanted to look at it in the light of day."

"Do we know what happened?" Derek asked.

"It's looking like Foyet was lying in wait when Hotch got home." Emily spread out some eight-by-ten glossies and Derek tried to pretend they weren't crime scene photos of his boss' home. "Hotch came in the door, dropped his keys on the table, set his briefcase aside. We didn't find either of his guns, by the way, so we should assume he was armed when Foyet attacked him."

"What about his credentials?" Derek asked, thinking of it suddenly.

Emily shook her head. "From putting his briefcase down, it looks like Hotch went straight for the wet bar." She pursed her lips. It didn't sit right with her, Derek could plainly see. It didn't sit right with him, either, but it wasn't exactly a surprise. They'd all taken the Turner case hard. Hotch worked longer hours than any of them and didn't have any personal outlets any more. So he'd started drinking when he got home.

"It was whiskey?" Derek asked, turning one of the pictures to study it.

"Yeah," Emily said. "It was--"

"Maker's Mark," Dave broke in. "Bourbon. Aaron doesn't exactly have cheap taste." There was an undercurrent to his voice that made Derek look sharply at him, but Dave just met his gaze blandly.

The fast click of heels made them all turn towards the door just before Penelope came in, her face glowing. "I just got a hit off Hotch's cell phone!" she said. "It's been turned off since last night, but it was just turned on for three minutes. Not quite long enough for me to pinpoint it, but long enough for me to know it's in DC."

Derek frowned and glanced at Emily. "DC?" Why would it be in the capital? It had to be some kind of plant. Foyet wouldn't have taken Hotch to DC, and he certainly wouldn't have allowed Hotch to keep his cell phone. He shook his head. "Were any calls made?"

"Nope, just turned on." Penelope's expression was dimming as she realized none of them were excited by her news.

"It has to be a diversionary tactic," Emily said. "Foyet's not in DC, but he wants us to think he is."

"Or maybe he's in DC and wants us to think he isn't, because we think he's smarter than that," Derek said.

"Or maybe," Dave pointed out, "he isn't in DC because he knows we think we're smarter than him, so we'll think he's in DC because he's trying to outsmart us."

Derek glared at him.

"Well, I'm confused," JJ said, her tone light.

"We have to check it out," Derek said.

"We don't _have_ to," Dave said. "He dropped us a breadcrumb and if we jump on it like hungry sparrows, we'll be going exactly the direction he wants us to go."

"Look, Rossi, we need to check it out," Derek said again, his voice getting louder as he fought his temper. "We can't just ignore it."

"We can and we should." Dave smirked at him. "He's trying to see if he can call the shots with us. And he can't."

"Damn right he can," Derek snarled. "He's _got Hotch_, or have you forgotten because you're so impressed with your own damn brilliance?"

"Hey, guys--" Emily tried, but Dave talked over her.

"Listen, Derek, I'm sorry that you're not following the logic here, but some of us--"

"Don't even start in on that superiority kick with me, Rossi!" Derek burst out.

"Oh my God!" Penelope said, her voice shaking. It cut across the white heat of Derek's fury. "Will you two listen to yourselves?" she whispered. Derek turned slowly to look at her. From the corner of his eye he saw Dave doing the same. "I don't know what's going on with you two, or why you feel like you need to have your stupid ego contest right now, but have you forgotten that Hotch is in the clutches of the villain here?" Tears were slipping down her cheeks as she stared at them, but from the tense way she held herself, Derek could tell they were tears of rage more than anything else. "Why don't both of you just grow up already and start learning to work together?"

For a moment after her outburst she stared from one to the other of them, then she threw her pen down against the conference table and stomped out.

The room was silent for a long time, then JJ stood, her eyebrows up in that expression that said she thought they'd gotten what was coming to them. After a moment Emily said, "I'm going to go check in with Washington Field."

Derek jumped into motion before she got out the door. "I'll go with you," he said, and followed her out of the room.

*******

Dave hated apologizing. It wasn't in his nature to admit he'd been wrong. He avoided it whenever possible, but he had a feeling that this time, it wasn't possible. He made his way to Penelope's office and tapped on the door, then stepped inside.

"I'm sorry," she blurted before he'd even gotten anything out. Dave raised his eyebrows, then shook his head and held up a hand.

"No," he said. "You were right. I came to apologize to you. Derek and I had words earlier this morning, and we were still sniping at each other when we should have been working together."

Her brows crinkled. "I don't know if I've ever heard you admit you were wrong before," she said.

"Yeah, it doesn't happen all that often. I hope you have something recording everything that happens in this office."

She snorted. "Rossi, whatever's going on with you and Derek, that's your business. But this isn't exactly the best time for you two to finally deal with your tension thing."

He sighed. "It just sort of happened," he said. It certainly hadn't been part of his plan for last night. It hadn't been part of his plan ever. He'd thought Derek would just continue to live in denial of the stuff going on between them.

When he looked back at Penelope, she was staring at him. "Are you telling me what I think you're telling me?" she whispered.

He scowled at her. "I'm not telling you anything," he said. "I just wanted to apologize."

"Oh, no, you are not getting away with that," she said. "Tell Auntie Penelope everything."

"We are in the middle of trying to find Hotch," Dave reminded her. "And the other thing I was going to ask you is what's going on with Hotch's cell phone. Derek's right. We ought to find a way to subtly check it out."

She pursed her lips, but turned back to her computer. "It's still on," she said. "It's moving now. The signal isn't good, but it's still there."

Dave nodded. "I'm going to have DCPD check it out. It may be a dead end, but we can't ignore it."

"You really shouldn't make digs about his intelligence," she said. "He's smart, but sometimes he feels like he's just the run-and-tackle-things guy."

Dave raised his eyebrows. "I'll keep that in mind."

 

The cell phone was on the Metro. Red line. They discovered it only after DCPD spent a couple of hours chasing the phantom signal across the city and back.

Dead end.

"How much time did we waste chasing that damn phone?" Derek muttered, staring down at the red line map.

Dave shrugged. "It doesn't matter," he said. "You were right. We needed to check it out. And maybe it tells us something. Foyet either took the phone there himself or had help. No other options. So which is it?"

"Did JJ ever get in touch with that reporter from Boston?"

"Yeah, but it took some doing. He's vacationing down at the Grand Canyon. She's verified it with park authorities. So the reporter isn't helping Foyet." Dave paused. "Not that I thought he would. He and Hotch seemed almost friendly with each other."

Derek nodded. "If Foyet has any help, my guess is it's going to be a young woman, maybe still in high school. Remember Reid profiled him as a hebophile."

"Yeah." Dave sighed. "And if that's who he has helping him, he's not going to tell her any details of what he's doing. He would have just given her the phone and told her to leave it on the red line."

"Dead end."

"Yeah."

Derek swore and pounded a fist against the conference room table. "We're losing time."

Dave rested a hand on Derek's shoulder, squeezing gently. "We'll get him."

He pretended not to notice the way Derek tensed up.


	9. Chapter 9

"We've finally caught a break," JJ said, coming into the conference room. "I've got Jenny Kael freed up from her most recent assignment. She's even agreed to cut her hair. Haley said we could use her van, so we're going to put Jenny in to stand in for Haley. We've got cooperation from one of Haley's neighbors, who's a retired police officer. He's got a stack of mail he'll hand over to Jenny when she gets there, and they'll have a loud conversation about Jack being at camp."

Derek felt a thrill of adrenaline go through him. This could be the break they needed. If Foyet was holding out for Haley so he could kill her while Hotch watched, he would make his move after Agent Kael got in place.

"Good." Dave was nodding. "It explains why the house has been empty for the past day, if Foyet's been watching the place. We step up the appearance on our investigation in DC, give him the illusion of security."

Derek nodded too. It was a good plan. "We need to get people in place in the neighborhood."

"It's going to be tricky," Dave said. "Foyet knows what we look like." He was frowning.

"There's been no reports of a suspicious vehicle in the area?" Derek asked.

"Nothing."

Derek shook his head. "Where's he been holding Hotch?"

"We'll find him," Dave said. Derek had lost count of how many times Dave had said that in the last two days.

JJ's phone rang. She answered it, and after a brief conversation, she turned back to them. "Jenny's almost ready to head in," she said. "We've got her looking as much like Haley as we can, and they've given Haley a Bureau car to drive while Jenny has her van. How are we going to set up surveillance?"

"Foyet has to know we'd talk to her," Dave said. "Derek and I will head in to see her shortly after she arrives. We'll make our presence known, then we'll go. Hopefully we'll keep his attention, and that will give Reid and Emily a chance to set up some discreet surveillance of our own."

Derek shot a look at Dave, but he didn't bother arguing. He knew it wouldn't get him anywhere. He didn't want to spend time with Dave alone, but he wasn't going to jeopardize the investigation because of his personal feelings. That would just send home the point about intra-team fraternization, anyway.

Derek called Haley's house and left a message on the answering machine, saying that he'd like to talk to her at her earliest convenience. Jenny Kael knew to expect it, and once she had settled in as 'Haley', she would call Derek. It would be the signal for them to go in, and that would start Emily and Spencer's window to get in place for surveillance.

They'd gotten lucky and found a neighboring home that was for sale. The real estate agent was more than happy to cooperate with the FBI. As Derek steered the SUV towards Haley's house, Emily and Spencer prepared to get in place.

"It wasn't about blowing off steam," Dave said quietly. They weren't far from Haley's house.

Derek tensed. "Is this really the best time?"

"Probably not, but it's the only time I know you won't run away."

"Don't even start with me, Rossi," Derek said. Dave made an unhappy noise and Derek sighed. "Fine, _Dave_. But don't try to out-macho me. You and I both know that sleeping with a man doesn't make someone any less macho, and you're not going to make me feel that way."

There was a pause, then Dave said, "I wasn't trying to." _Shit_. Derek realized he'd given something away with his words, even if he wasn't sure what Dave thought he now knew.

"Yeah, well, don't think it'll work. Just drop this. We were both exhausted and needing something last night, and I'd been drinking. It won't happen again."

Again Dave hesitated before speaking. "We did both need something. So maybe last night was partly about comfort. That's fine. But I didn't push you into anything, so I'd appreciate it if you'd quit acting like I did. _You_ kissed me first."

It was undeniable, unexplainable truth. Derek didn't know what had possessed him to do it. He'd just been so damned angry about Rossi's attitude, about the thought of Rossi and Jordan Todd, about the way Rossi seemed to notice everyone but him, seemed to acknowledge everyone's talents but his...

...And Derek knew damn well that that wasn't even fair, but he was tired of introspection. "This is her place," he said, gesturing at a house halfway up the block. "Is this conversation done?"

"For now."

*******

Jenny Kael was a pleasant woman and seemed to be a capable agent, Dave thought, even if she did look too much like Haley for his taste. He didn't really appreciate her subtle flirtation with him, though, since he was trying to get Derek to realize that this _wasn't_ a competition between them. Then again, jealousy had been what motivated Derek to act the night before. Maybe it would make a difference today too.

As they left Haley's neighborhood, Dave was on the phone with Spencer and JJ, making sure they'd gotten surveillance set up all right, and going over their plans. He borrowed Kevin Lynch from another team and sent Garcia home--albeit to an empty bed--to get some rest. He told JJ to go home and kiss her son and fiancé. He told her he and Derek would be back at their hotel from the night before, and to contact them if anything about their situation changed.

"We'll reconvene at seven," he finished. He could see Derek watching him, but he just listened to JJ wish him a good night, then flipped his phone shut.

"I'm not going back to the hotel with you," Derek said.

Dave rolled his eyes. "You might as well. Your door probably hasn't been repaired yet. I promise not to attack you in your sleep."

He didn't miss the way Derek tensed at those words. "I didn't think you would," he said.

"Good."

"Fine."

"All right."

Derek swore. "Who's feeding my dog while Emily's on stakeout?"

"Relax. She said she gave a neighbor a key months ago to water her plants, so the neighbor agreed to give the dog a walk."

Every excuse exhausted, Derek was left no other choice but to nod. Feeling happier about that than he ought to, Dave pointed the SUV towards the hotel.

When they got there, Derek raided the minibar without looking at Dave, then sprawled on the bed that had been left empty the night before. He emptied two bottles into his glass and took a sip, then looked over at Dave defiantly.

Dave had expected some sort of display, so he was able to keep from reacting. He had stopped just inside the room to take his shoes off and put them in the closet, so when Derek looked over at him, he just looked back calmly. He held Derek's gaze for a long moment, then unbuttoned his shirt and pulled the shirt tail out of his pants. It took some doing to hide the frustration he was feeling, though.

He couldn't understand what was going on with Derek. His reactions to Dave had alternated between hot and cold since the beginning, so that part didn't really throw Dave. It was more the way Derek seemed to entirely shut out any possibility of further intimacy. What made the man tick? He'd thrown himself at Dave the night before, then obviously regretted it this morning...but why? He wasn't the sort of man who seemed to have many regrets at all; Derek Morgan was the sort of man who didn't waste time on regret. He acted on his regrets and turned them into opportunities. Dave recognized it, because that was the sort of man he tried to be himself.

Never mind that he often failed. Never mind that he'd racked up more regrets in his fifty-three years than Derek had probably ever imagined in his thirty-eight. Never mind that there were three ex-Mrs. Rossis who could testify to the fact that Dave often failed in turning regrets into opportunity. It was still the man Dave _wanted_ to be.

"You want to tell me what I did wrong?" Dave said finally. He kept his voice quiet and calm, hoping Derek wouldn't take it as an attack. He really wanted to know what he'd done wrong. He wanted to know if there were any way to fix it, because he'd enjoyed the sex, and he'd frankly loved falling asleep with a strong, sated man in his arms. He enjoyed working with Derek, and he thought they could have a good partnership outside of work as well as professionally.

"Nothing." Derek's voice was flat, but not hard. There was a warning there, but Derek must be trying not to argue. Dave was torn between letting it go and pushing. And he'd never been one to back down.

That meant backing down was probably the right response in this case.

He shrugged and went to the minibar, getting himself two bottles of scotch. "All right." He poured himself a glass, then glanced over his shoulder at Derek. "You didn't do anything wrong, either, Derek."

Whatever reaction he'd been expecting, it wasn't the one he got.

Derek bolted upright on the bed and threw something at Dave. "Fuck you, Rossi," he bit out. Dave ducked automatically as an empty mini bottle bounced off his shoulder. "Fuck you and fuck your damn Italian stud routine, and fuck your God-damned fucking attitude!" He rolled off the bed and Dave stayed half hunched over, watching him warily, but Derek stalked into the bathroom and slammed the door.

Dave blinked several times in utter bafflement before he heard the shower go on. Finally he sighed and shook his head and took a long sip of scotch. What the hell. If he couldn't beat him, might as well join him. Even if it meant they both ended up working hung over in the morning.

Neither of them should be drinking. Not with Aaron's life on the line. But then that was precisely why they'd needed the comfort of each other last night, and Dave supposed _that_ was precisely why they needed the comfort of alcohol tonight.

"God damn it," he muttered, and considered getting another room. He ought to just leave Derek alone.

By the time the bathroom opened, letting out a cloud of steam and the smell of the strong pine-scented shampoo Derek used, Dave had consumed both mini bottles of scotch and had switched to bourbon.

"How is it you get into people's brains like that, man?" Derek said, his voice angry but somehow warm too. He'd walked out, wrapped in a towel, to stand over Rossi's bed. "What is it you've got that keeps people like Jordan Todd paying attention to you? What's so fucking special about you?"

"I have no idea," Dave admitted. He sighed and sprawled out on the bed, looking up at Derek. "You're the relentless one."

Derek snorted and shook his head, looking away from Dave. "I didn't want this," he said. "I wasn't looking for this." He walked away and curled his fingers around his glass. "I was just fine with one-night stands and girls I barely knew."

"Were you?" Dave asked wryly. Derek just looked back at him without answering. Then again, Dave wasn't sure it needed an answer. They both knew better.

"You piss me the hell off, Rossi," Derek muttered. "Stubborn bastard."

"Relentless showoff," Dave countered, but his eyelids were lowered, and he knew the expression on his face was warm as he looked over at Derek.

After a long moment, Derek sighed. His anger seemed to be gone, but Dave had no idea what had replaced it. "What the hell," Derek muttered, and tossed back the rest of his drink. Then he walked over to the bed, pulling his towel off. "Fuck me, Dave. Show me what it is you're lookin' for in me."

The sight of the towel unfurling from Derek's waist and dropping to the floor had sent a curl of lust through Dave's groin...but Derek's words inspired a sudden crisis of confidence. Dave didn't even know what he was looking for. How could he show Derek anything? But Dave knew that refusing wasn't an option, even if he'd wanted to...which he didn't.

He finished his drink too, because a little Dutch courage never hurt anyone. Then he sat up and reached for Derek.

Derek's fingers didn't shake as he tugged Dave's clothes off. Derek's lips weren't hard or hesitant when they touched Dave's. His body didn't shy away from Dave's. In fact, his lips were pliant as they kissed. His thick, gorgeous cock stood out proudly from his body. His hands smoothed over Dave's biceps, his fingers curled in Dave's short hair. Dave wasn't sure what, besides the lack of anger, made tonight so much different from the night before.

But it was.

They'd been kissing and touching and rubbing against each other for a good half hour when Dave finally broke the kiss and rolled away, panting. "What is this, Derek?" he asked quietly. God, he wanted Derek. He wanted to wrap his arms around the younger man and lay him back against the bed and show him just how completely Dave worshiped him. But not like this. Not when Derek didn't seem...present, somehow.

Derek didn't bother to deny it. "You don't have to stop," he said quietly.

Dave shook his head. "This isn't like last night," he said. "This...this isn't what you really want."

"You keep trying to convince yourself that you know me," Derek said. "But you don't, Rossi."

"Rossi again," Dave noted sadly. He wanted Derek so much it hurt. He wanted to take Derek in his arms and promise that whatever he was afraid would happen between them, it wouldn't. _Someone must have hurt you very badly_, he thought.

Derek said nothing.

Dave sighed. "Look, let's just get some sleep," he said. "We've got a long day tomorrow."

Derek was silent for a long moment, then nodded stiffly and started to sit up. Dave reached out, resting a hand lightly on Derek's arm.

"You don't have to go anywhere."

It took another long hesitation, but finally Derek nodded and lay back down. He reached out and flipped off the light as Dave pulled the blankets up over them. After a while, Dave shifted closer and slid an arm across Derek's chest. "Sleep," he murmured, and did his best to follow his own advice.


	10. Chapter 10

There wasn't much you could do to prepare for being woken by a fist to the jaw. Dave woke with a yelp and jerked backwards, trying to figure out who was assaulting him. _Foyet!_ was his first thought, but then he realized someone was whimpering next to him. He shoved backwards, trying to put distance between him and the whimpering assailant. At the same instant, he remembered that he'd gone to bed with Derek. Presumably that was who was still in bed with him.

"No," Derek murmured. "Geddoff." He was still asleep, though it was obviously a restless one.

Dave sat up. "Derek."

"Said _no_," was the emphatic response. Then Derek let out a sob that sent a horrible chill down Dave's spine. That wasn't the sort of noise Derek Morgan ought to make. "Nooo!" Derek wailed, and Dave couldn't take it any more.__

He grabbed Derek's biceps and shook him hard, intentionally violent to try to jolt him from the dream. "Derek, wake up!" he snapped, biting out the command with as much authority as he could.

It partially worked. Derek's eyes came open and he stared at Dave, but there didn't seem to be any recognition in his gaze. He let out a low moan and tried to pull away, but Dave shook him again. After a long moment, during which Dave started wondering if he would have to throw ice water on the man, Derek sucked in a long, shaking breath. He stared at Dave, then shuddered and tried to pull away.

"Shh," Dave said as soon as he realized Derek was aware of himself again. "Shh." He tugged Derek back against him, bearing them both down to the bed. "Shh. It's okay, Derek. I'm here, you're okay. It's okay."

Derek made an unhappy noise, but even though he didn't relax in Dave's arms, he didn't pull away, either. He was shaking, but after a while he turned to press his forehead against Dave's shoulder. It was enough of an invitation for Dave to stroke a hand over Derek's shoulders. He kept up the soothing touches for a long time, until Derek was finally limp in his arms, breathing heavily.

Despite the comfort he brought to Derek, though, a heaviness was on Dave's heart. Suddenly Derek's reaction made sense, from his initial hostility to his early resistance and all the way through his cold reaction yesterday. _God_, he thought sickly. _He could always say no if he didn't want this, that's what I was thinking. But _could_ he say no?_

Dave was still wrestling with the guilt when he fell into an uneasy doze. It was only when Derek shifted and snuggled against him that Dave roused long enough to assure himself everything was okay, then relaxed fully against Derek and fell asleep.

*******

Derek sipped his coffee and tried to focus on JJ's words instead of the way Dave was watching him. They'd had a very subdued morning at the hotel, taking turns in the shower and sipping coffee at opposite ends of the room. It hadn't necessarily been uncomfortable, but Derek could tell something was on Dave's mind. And he would have to be stupid not to realize it had something to do with the fact that he'd woken screaming from a nightmare about Carl Buford last night.

With an inaudible sigh, Derek dragged his attention back to the present.

"Jenny Kael said she'd received a couple of hang-up calls," JJ said, tapping her pen against the pad of paper before her. "She couldn't tell if anyone was listening on the other end before he or she hung up." She sighed and pushed her hair out of her face. "We've got a couple of people from Charlie team who volunteered to come back into rotation early so they can relieve Prentiss and Reid on the stakeout." At any given time, one of the four BAU teams was supposed to be out of rotation so the members could keep some fairly regular hours and rest up for away cases.

"So Reid and Prentiss will be back soon?"

"I told them to go home and at least grab showers and a change of clothes," Dave said. "Doesn't mean they'll do as they're told."

JJ smirked. "Right."

Derek shook his head. Knowing his colleagues, they would head directly back here.

Ten minutes later, he was proven right when Reid ran into the room, Prentiss right behind him. They both looked excited; Spencer's eyes were practically glowing, and Emily was watching him avidly. "The eyes!" he exclaimed, drawing everyone's attention. "It's been bothering me this whole time. I was trying to make some sort of connection, and I couldn't figure out why Foyet didn't leave the eye symbol anywhere in Hotch's apartment. We know it's him--he's been taunting us--so he didn't omit that as a means of disguising his identity. So why leave them out?"

Derek could tell Reid had it figured out, and that he'd already bounced his theory off Emily, but he played along. "Maybe because this wasn't Fate. It was personal for him."

"Or because he just took Hotch instead of a couple?" JJ ventured, but Reid was shaking his head.

"The eyes were a symbol that he was watching. I thought it was the Eye of Providence." Reid frowned. "Maybe that _was_ part of it. He viewed himself as Fate's hand, acting on what was seen. That doesn't matter. The thing is, I thought the eye had to do with the _victims_, but it didn't. I did a little digging on Detective Shaunessy in Boston, and he had a security system in his home." He glanced around at everyone. "So did Hotch and Haley. When she moved out, he made sure she had adequate security in her new house." He coughed and glanced down. "He signed a contract with the same company they had used in their old house--and it's that same company that contracts with his apartment management company."

"Foyet hacked into the security cameras?" Emily said.

Reid looked up and nodded. "This is just a theory. I'll have to have Garcia check it out. But I think _that's_ how he's been watching. He was watching the detectives, not the victims. And when he offered the deal to Hotch, he turned his attention there, even when Hotch turned him down."__

"That would explain why there are no unfamiliar vehicles in Haley's neighborhood," Derek said. He stood up. "So we need to get Garcia looking for a hack into the security company's system, and then she can trace that back to wherever Foyet is."

"Theoretically, yes," Reid said. Derek clapped him on the shoulder.

"Good," Dave said. "Reid, what's the name of the company? Emily and I will go get their cooperation. Derek, you and Reid stand by and see what Garcia finds. Be ready to move--get SWAT mobilized if you think it's necessary."

Derek met his gaze for a moment, then nodded. Penelope was right; he and Rossi needed to put aside their issues and work together, and this could be the break they'd needed. "Right," he said. "I'll go check with my baby girl, make sure she can do this from here and won't need to go with you." He started out the door, then glanced over his shoulder. "Be careful."

He paused just long enough to catch the surprise on Dave's face, then headed for Garcia's bunker.

Garcia was beside herself when Derek explained what was up. She started tapping at her keyboard immediately, and Derek grinned. "Hey, hold up, baby girl, Rossi's going to get cooperation from the company."

"Oh, honey, I don't _need_ their agreement," Penelope replied, still typing. "It'll help, but time's wasting while Dave and Em head that way. I can hack their system with my eyes closed. Security systems have protocols they follow."

He shook his head. "No wonder you were considered a threat to national security," he teased, and left her to work. He gestured for Dave and Emily to go ahead, then got coffee and told Reid he was going to sit with Penelope.

Reid nodded absently. "I'm going to keep working on this," he said, indicating the papers in front of him, which were filled with scribbled notes. Derek figured he didn't need to know. Reid would tell him if it was important. He just nodded and moseyed back to Garcia's office.

"You know," she said, not turning when he came in, "you can talk to me about things, my glorious obsessional crimes expert." She was typing as she spoke, and Derek shook his head admiringly. She never ceased to amaze him the way she made it look so effortless.

"What are you talkin' about, baby girl?"

"I'm talking about you and David Rossi getting ready to tear each other's throats out in the middle of the round table yesterday," she said, her tone saying that should have been obvious to him.

He tensed. "Yeah, that ain't gonna happen." He didn't want to talk about David Rossi. He didn't want to _think_ about David Rossi. He especially didn't want to remember the feel of David Rossi's lips against his jaw or the sound of David Rossi's voice in his ear.

He snapped his focus back to the conversation at hand and found Penelope studying him narrowly. "Right," she said, and shook her head. "You know, you're an incredibly smart man. I don't know why you have such a hard time with this."

"Penelope," he said, a warning creeping into his voice. "Don't go there."

She snorted and tapped a few keys, then waited, watching her screen. Derek sipped his coffee and tried not to notice the silence between them growing thicker.

It was stupid. She knew him better than anyone. But she ought to understand why he couldn't just throw himself into trusting someone. He'd been burned before, burned hard, and he knew if he let himself trust again and got hurt again, he'd lose it. It was easier just to take his pleasure where he could find it and never worry about the future.

_Easier_, said a voice in the back of his head. _But not better._

"Derek," she said, her voice soft, "he's a good man."

"I know that," Derek snapped. That wasn't the issue. He liked Dave. He respected Dave. The entire problem was that he liked and respected Dave too damn much. No one could live up to being put on a pedestal.

"He doesn't know. About Carl."

"Don't say that man's name to me," Derek gritted out.

"You could tell him." Penelope's expression was tentative, like she knew she was treading on thin ice. That turned out to be what broke it.

"We're done here," Derek snapped. He was on his feet in a second, striding out of the room the next. He heard her call after him, but he ignored it.

 

He was pacing in circles around the conference room, tossing his baseball from hand to hand, when Penelope rushed in. "Eureka!" she announced, and slapped a piece of paper down on the table between them. Derek came over to peer at it.

"The location where Foyet has been monitoring their cameras. This is a physical location, as opposed to the several locations he routed the signal through."

"So this is where his computer is," Reid clarified.

"Exactomundo, O Genius One," she replied. "Now go forth, my knights. Take your SWAT team and your Kevlar vests and rescue our fearless leader." She posed grandly, then sobered. "And be careful, or I will kill you both myself."


	11. Chapter 11

Spencer navigated while Derek drove. They always divided it that way when they worked together, because Spencer had a better eye for all things geographical, but Derek had always had better hand-eye-coordination. Following were SWAT, HRT, and the locals' critical response team. Spencer let Rossi know where they were headed, and Rossi said he and Emily would be there ASAP.

He couldn't help but hope he and Spencer were the ones who got to Hotch first. He had never really understood the territorial way locals responded to FBI assistance, because they all wanted the same thing. He'd even stood on both sides of that street and not understood. The one time he'd had to work with the Feds as a beat cop in Chicago, he'd realized that was where he wanted to end up. They had more resources and money, while the locals had more manpower and the home turf advantage. But in the end, they all wanted the same thing.

But now, driving swift and silent with his lights flashing, Derek realized what he hadn't before. It _did_ matter who found them. It mattered, because in some obscure way, whoever found the victim was the one who seemed to care the most. And Derek knew Dave cared about Hotch as much as he did. But he wanted Hotch to realize that he cared at all. He wanted to prove that even though Dave was here, Derek still mattered.

It was all irrational and adrenaline-fueled, and Derek knew damn well he was thinking this way to avoid anxiety about what they would find at the end of their drive, as well as to avoid thinking about Dave in any less-than-competitive way.

"Next turn is our street," Spencer announced. There had been nothing but a tense silence in the vehicle for a couple of minutes. With those words, the two agents in the back seat--Bern and Biggs, Derek thought their names were--checked their vests and guns. The rip of Velcro and click of metal on metal sent a zing through Derek's blood, and he knew _this was it_. They were going to find Hotch.

Please, God, let them find Hotch alive.

There were SWAT vehicles approaching from the other end of the street, and as Spencer slid an earbud in Derek's ear, he heard the announcement that the other team was in position behind the house. Derek pulled the SUV to a clean, sharp stop, and the four of them were out of the vehicle, guns raised, before the engine was off.

Everything came together beautifully. Derek gave the orders and saw the signals passed along. They approached the house, each route of egress covered--including windows, as Derek had insisted--and Spencer checked the doorknob. He shook his head. Locked. He fell into a crouch and Derek kicked the door in, then burst through, his gun and his gaze moving together to sweep the room.

The room was empty, but there were definite signs of life. An empty glass, a newspaper folded on the coffee table. Derek and Spencer exchanged a glance. Foyet might be out. Or maybe he was upstairs.

"Clear!" SWAT had come in the back. Spencer checked the dining room and shouted the clear. Derek headed down the hall and cleared the bathroom, then reached the closed bedroom door.

"Please, God," he breathed, and threw the door open.

Someone shouted just before a silvery flash passed his eyes and thunked into the wall. Derek dropped and rolled into the room, his left bicep burning, as over his head, gunfire exploded.


	12. Chapter 12

Dave and Emily arrived at Foyet's hideout just as the ambulance rolled up. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he knew it was fear as much as adrenaline or excitement. The two men he cared about most in the world were in that house, and regardless of how things were between him and Derek right now, he couldn't stand the thought of anything happening to him. As for Hotch... Dave wasn't sure he would know how to live without his best friend. They hadn't always been in close contact, had even gone months or years without seeing each other in person. But they had always been there, at the periphery, at least, of each other's worlds. Hotch had been best man in Dave's second wedding. Dave was godfather to Hotch's son.

He stood aside to let the EMTs run into the house, carrying their stretcher and medical kits. A hand touched his arm gently. "Dave, are you okay?"

He looked over at Emily. She was watching him with open concern. "Spencer said they'd got Foyet."

Dave drew in a deep breath and nodded. "And he said that Aaron and Derek were both injured," he said. Then he shook his head. "I'm fine. Let's get in there."

_Please, God_, he thought, leading the way into the house. The first thing he heard was Derek's voice, exclaiming something. It sounded like it hurt, whatever it was. Dave's chest eased. Derek was well enough to swear. A moment later, his whole body felt weak with relief, as he heard Hotch's voice, a lower murmur, in answer.

Dave burst into the back bedroom of the house just as Spencer said, "Would you please both just sit down? You're _bleeding_."

Behind Dave, Emily began to laugh, but it was a quiet, happy laughter. Derek and Hotch were hugging fiercely, despite the blood that soaked Derek's left sleeve and the front of Hotch's shirt. Bruises decorated Hotch's face, and one sleeve was ripped, sliding back to exposed a wrist rubbed raw from handcuffs or ties of some sort.

It was the most beautiful sight Dave had ever seen.

"Sit!" he barked, and Derek jerked away from Hotch, looking almost guilty before a smug satisfaction spread across his face.

Aaron smiled at them. "Thank you," he said quietly. "I knew you'd get here in time." He crossed the room to hug Dave, ignoring the noise of distaste Dave made when the bloody shirt contacted his. He'd known Dave long enough to realize he didn't mean it, anyway. Dave held his best friend tightly for a moment. "I knew you'd protect Haley," Aaron whispered.

Then he pulled away and wavered on his feet. Dave and Derek reached out simultaneously to catch him, and they guided him over to the bed. It was soaked in blood and smelled like urine, but Dave couldn't bring himself to care. Aaron was alive.

"You," he said, looking at Derek. Their gazes held for a moment. Derek looked almost defiant. Had he doubted that Dave would care? Dave felt his gaze gentle. "You go sit down," he ordered, his voice quiet. "These nice EMTs want to check you both out, and you're losing blood."

Derek stared at him for a moment longer, then went to sit in the room's only chair. As the EMT announced he would need stitches and dressed the wound, Derek told Dave what had happened.

When he kicked the door open, Foyet had thrown his knife, slicing along Derek's arm in a glancing blow. Foyet must have been expecting Derek to go down, and when Derek rolled forward into the room instead, it caught him off guard. Hotch, seeing Reid appear in the doorway behind Derek, had shouted and rolled off the bed, probably gaining another few bruises on the way. Spencer had taken the shot without hesitation, a quick double-tap to the chest.

"It's the best shot I've ever seen," Derek said.

"Not the best I've seen," Aaron murmured from where he'd been listening. The EMT working on him paused, obviously surprised that he would contradict praise about the man who had undoubtedly saved his life. Then Aaron gave Reid a warm smile. "The second best. The best time was the first time Spencer saved my life."

Reid's cheeks went red and he looked down, making Dave grin. It was amazing how much Aaron could do with a few words of praise. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate his team, but that he had such high standards, they knew he didn't issue praise lightly.

"It was good work," Dave said. "And I can't tell you how grateful I am to find you in one piece."

Aaron shrugged. "Mostly," he said, and held up his right hand, which was bloody. Dave sucked in a gasp as he realized the tip of his pinky finger had been removed from the knuckle.

"He said it would prove to Haley that he had me." Aaron's voice was dry. "I tried to tell him she wouldn't care, but I'm afraid he didn't buy it. I just had to count on the idea that you would have gotten her to safety."

"We didn't get the finger," Dave said weakly.

Aaron shrugged. "At least it's not my left hand," he said. "The rest of it will heal, and this won't interfere with my shooting. Might hurt my golf game a little."

Dave snorted. "All right, wiseass. Let's get you two to the hospital."

*******

At the hospital, a doctor put twenty-eight stitches in Derek's arm. They offered him pain medication, but he waved it away. The pain wasn't bad enough to bother with anything stronger than ibuprofen. For that matter, Derek almost welcomed the physical pain. It was easier than dealing with the shit he was going to have to face once he and Rossi were alone together next.

Derek knew Dave had probably made his own guesses about why he had difficulties dealing with the idea of a relationship between them. And he'd put it aside long enough for them to find Hotch, but Derek didn't doubt Dave was going to call him on it now that Hotch was safe and, relatively, intact.

The team had been ushered into a private waiting room, which was where Derek found them once he'd been stitched up and given a scrub shirt to wear in place of his own ruined one. JJ was leaning against Spencer, who actually had an arm around her. He seemed to have lost some of his fear of physical contact once she'd started plopping his godson in his arms every chance she got. Emily and Garcia were sitting next to each other, not talking. Dave was standing, his arms folded across his chest, dividing his attention between the doorway and the team. He looked like a watchful father, Derek thought, and realized that Dave had found his place in the team, after all, and he didn't really need to push Derek out of the way to take it.

"You all right?" Dave murmured as Derek walked in and hesitated next to him.

Derek glanced over and met his gaze. "I'm good," he said quietly. "Reid holding up okay?"

Dave nodded. "He did what he had to do. He realizes that."

Derek nodded too. He paused, not wanting to leave Dave's side. "Hotch?"

"Is going to be fine. They gave him some local while they clean up the sloppy amputation Foyet did." Dave made a face. "I'm just sick over that," he admitted. "If we'd got to him sooner..."

"Where do you think the finger ended up?" Derek asked. His personal opinion was that Foyet had wanted it as a trophy. He'd taken trophies from all the other victims, even if he'd later left them at the next crime scene. Maybe he'd planned to leave it with Haley's body. Maybe he'd just wanted to keep it until his next kill.

"No idea," Dave admitted. "I hope it doesn't disqualify him for field work."

"It won't. He won't let it." Derek glanced over at Dave, offering him a half-smile. "You remember what he was like after the explosion in New York City."

Dave snorted. "Stubborn jackass."

"Well, yeah," Derek said. "You knew that before you came back."

Dave grinned at him, and Derek felt a pulse of pure desire go through him. God, but Dave was an attractive man. And maybe they'd still fight--no, scratch that, of _course_ they'd still fight--but Derek knew for sure he didn't want to walk away from the idea of a real relationship between them.

He wondered if Dave would want the same thing.

"Me too," Dave said quietly. Derek jerked his attention back to the conversation and couldn't remember why Dave would be saying that.

"Huh?"

Dave's grin softened into a warm smile and he nodded faintly. "The look on your face just then," he explained, his words barely a murmur. "I feel it too."

Derek's confusion faded into relief, and he grinned back at Dave. "Why do I get a feeling this isn't going to be as easy as it sounds?" he asked.

"Cause nothing ever is," Dave said. "But we'll figure it out. We make a pretty good team."

Derek nodded slowly. "Yeah," he said. "We do."


	13. Chapter 13

By the time Hotch had been released, it was too late for Dave and Derek to check out of the hotel room, even though with Foyet caught, there was no need for it. Dave convinced Aaron to take it, since it was being paid for by the Bureau anyway. Dave and Derek both offered to stay with Aaron, but he waved them both off, saying he would be fine alone.

Dave was still fuming about it when he and Derek walked out of the lobby with their bags. "He isn't Superman," he grumbled. "He always used to talk to me about shit like this. We'd sit in his office and drink tea, or sometimes we'd sit in his apartment and drink bourbon. He never said much, but it was enough, you know?"

Derek nodded. "Enough to get it off his chest. Enough to let him know you understood."

"Exactly. Now he's just being stubborn. Damn it."

"Hang on," Derek said, pulling out his phone. "I got an idea." He hit a speed dial and held the phone to his ear. "Pretty boy," he said. "Dave and I are clearing out of the hotel, but to be honest, I think Hotch could use some company." He listened for a moment, while a fierce grin spread across Dave's face. Oh yeah, that was perfect. "Sure," Derek said. "And a six-pack of Bud. Nah, trust me on that. Besides, Dave and I already emptied the minibar." He laughed and hung up.

"Perfect," Dave said. "He'll push us out because he needs to be strong. But Reid doesn't require strength from anyone. He requires honesty."

Derek nodded. "And honestly, Hotch has a real big soft spot for Reid. He'd never want to hurt Reid's feelings, so he won't push him out."

"Good," Dave said. He glanced over at Derek. "I like the way you think."

Derek grinned back at him. "Good to know," he said. "Let's get outta here."

Derek agreed to leave his bike in the hotel lot and let Dave drop him off at home. Dave hoped it would give them a chance to talk some things through. Maybe Derek would even allow himself to be talked into dinner somewhere. Even if it was just pizza and beer.

Of course, when they got to Derek's house, they discovered an obstacle that his doors hadn't been replaced. With a sigh, Derek shook his head. "Gotta love the security around here. I'd better hope my stereo's still in place."

As it turned out, the broken doors were secured--too well. They were padlocked shut, and neither Derek nor Dave had the keys. Returning to the hotel was out, since they'd sent Reid there and Derek didn't want to take the flack for that tonight, so it wasn't difficult for Dave to convince him to come home with him.

After bickering with Derek over toppings, Dave called in a pizza to the little Mom and Pop place by his house. They stopped at a convenience store to pick up a six-pack of Heineken for Derek and Budweiser for Dave. Then they picked up the pizza and headed to Dave's.

He'd offered Derek the spare bedroom, but Derek had given him an inscrutable look and said it wouldn't be necessary. Dave wasn't sure what he was supposed to read from that look. He wasn't going to just assume anything, not after the nightmares last night. Still, it was nice to know Derek wanted this too.

Mucci came running eagerly when they got back. Dave had a dog-walking service, but it was nice to know his dog missed him.

"Hey, I didn't know you had a dog," Derek said. "Hey, boy, how's it going? You miss your dad?" He crouched down and held out a hand, and Mucci hit him so hard he bowled him over.

Dave burst out laughing. "He can be overly friendly," he said, and held out a hand to help Derek up. "Mucci, down!" Mucci obediently backed away from Derek, giving Dave room to pull Derek back to his feet. "Sorry about that," Dave said, but Derek was grinning faintly.

"He takes commands better than Clooney, that's for sure," he said. "At least he seems to like me."

Dave grinned back at him. "Come on, let's get to work on that pizza."

They sat in the living room to eat. Dave had a feeling they both needed to relax a little while they ate. The conversation they needed to have could come later. Hell, he wasn't sure if they needed to have it tonight at all. Then again, Derek had said they could share a bed tonight. He had to know Dave would want to talk about it first.

Dave flicked on the TV and surfed to a Cubs game while Derek opened the pizza box and breadsticks. They demolished the food in a lazy sort of way, sitting next to each other on the couch. When Dave got up to get a second beer, he brought one for Derek too, and their fingers brushed, sending a shiver of desire through him. He heard Derek suck in a breath. After a moment Derek shifted a little closer on the couch.

"I think we need to talk about some things," Dave said slowly. "Before we take this much further."

Derek sighed. "I assume you mean the nightmares." He didn't pause longer than a heartbeat before he cleared his throat. "You've probably figured it out already."

"I'd rather hear it from you," Dave said. It would be nice to know Derek trusted him with that information. But he wasn't going to force it out of him.

Derek nodded. "I was pretty young. Thirteen when it started. Sixteen when I finally said no." He made a disgusted noise. "Seventeen when I finally made him take no for an answer." He popped open his beer and took a long drink. "His name was Carl Buford."

Dave wished he knew what to say. He'd like to kill the sonofabitch who'd done it, but he wasn't even sure he had the right to feel that way. Derek wasn't the sort of guy who liked letting someone else do the protecting.

"He ran the local youth center," Derek continued. His words were slow, every one sounding carefully chosen. "He got me off the streets, pulled me away from the bangers I'd been hanging around with." He shook his head. "He saved my life."

"At the price of your childhood," Dave said hoarsely. He hoped it wasn't a mistake to speak.

Derek shook his head. "I dunno, man. Maybe I lost my childhood back when I was ten and saw my dad shot in front of me. Maybe I used it the first time Rodney looked at me and said I'd make a good errand boy." He sighed. "Anyway. It was a long time ago."

"But it shaped who you are today," Dave said. "You grew up and dedicated your life to protecting people who couldn't protect themselves."

"I took a roadblock and turned it into a stepping stone to something better." Derek glanced over at him. "You think I don't know all the pop psychology lingo, Dave?"

Dave snorted. "I know you know it. But just because it's pop psychology doesn't mean it's necessarily wrong."

Derek shook his head. "I just try not to spend my time thinking about him any more," he said. "I've dealt with him. Carl's in jail, and he'll spend the rest of his life there. I'm not going to spend the rest of _my_ life in a mental prison because of him."

Dave nodded slowly. "I don't want to be a reminder of the worst thing that's happened to you."

"You think that's the worst?" Derek shrugged. "I don't know if it is. I think seeing my dad shot was the worst. Nothing else even came close." He sighed. "Dave, I don't want to overthink it, and I'd rather you not overthink it, either. I'm not sayin' everything's gonna be perfect, but can't we just go with it and see what happens?"

Dave studied Derek's face, taking in the gorgeous smooth lines of his jaw and the inquisitive curve of his eyebrows. "Yeah," he said. "We can."

Derek nodded, then leaned in and kissed Dave slowly. It was a different sort of kiss than any they'd yet shared, and Dave moaned quietly, then slid an arm around Derek, turning to face him better. He loved the strength and tension in Derek's body against his. When Derek pulled back, he met Dave's eyes, a hesitant expression on his face.

"Dave, I want you to have me," he murmured. "I...I've never been like this with anyone, but... I trust you."

Dave's heart melted at those words. He lifted his free hand to trace Derek's cheekbone. "You can always trust me, Derek," he said. "I'll never give you any reason to doubt me."

Derek nodded almost imperceptibly and leaned in for another kiss. "Let's go to bed," he murmured, curling his fingers around Dave's.

 

They kissed and touched all the way down the hall, and Derek felt like he'd drunk an entire case of beers instead of just two. There was something intoxicating about the way Dave touched him, like it was a privilege to get this close. It was strange; sex had always been about having fun or blowing off steam for Derek. It had never been about emotions or tenderness. Suddenly that's exactly what this was, and he had to admit, it was the best thing he'd ever felt.

When they got to the bedroom, Dave pressed him against the wall, kissing him hungrily. His hands were under Derek's shirt, stroking his stomach lightly. When he pulled away, he took Derek's shirt with him, tugging it over his head in a smooth motion. Derek grinned and reached out for Dave's shirt, unbuttoning it just enough to pull it off.

By the time they made it to the bed, they were both naked. Dave pulled Derek close again, slipping a thigh between Derek's legs and gripping his ass. It sent a pulse of lust through Derek, and he moaned, rubbing against Dave. It seemed strange for a guy so obsessed with fitness, but he _liked_ Dave's middle-aged body, the slight rounding of his belly and the thickening of his waist. Dave's arms were still strong, and his hands felt damn good as they massaged Derek's ass and stroked up his back.

God, he couldn't remember ever feeling like this before. The first time they'd fucked, it had been purely need driven and almost as angry as it was sexy. Now, there was care in every motion, even the ones that sent spikes of pleasure and need through him. They were on the bed without Derek noticing how they'd got there, and he arched up against Dave, his fingers in Dave's hair as they kissed.

When Dave's hands slid down to prepare him, Derek didn't feel any need to tense up. He just whimpered and shifted to give Dave better access, welcoming Dave with his body as well as his mind. He trusted Dave, so he could give himself fully to the sensations Dave was sending through him. He didn't have to be in control, because Dave was.

Dave's hand was on Derek's dick when he pushed inside. Derek cried out, tensing briefly, then forcing himself to relax. He wasn't used to it, but there was as much pleasure as there was discomfort, and he _wanted_ to enjoy it. His fingers dug into Dave's shoulders as Dave kissed down his throat, giving him time to adjust. He was whispering between his kisses, but Derek couldn't really hear the words. The tone was warm and comforting, though, and he sighed and gave himself up to the feeling.

They moved together, slowly at first. Dave's lips were gentle on Derek's, but his hand was firm as he stroked Derek. Soon their movements gained in urgency as pleasure built between them. Derek was crying out with every thrust, his body tensing with need. Dave's lips were everywhere, against his jaw, on his throat, skating across his shoulders. Derek gasped his name, feeling sweat trickle between them down his stomach. God, this was perfect. This was everything he hadn't realized he was missing.

Dave whispered something, then he was tensing and going still over Derek as he came. Derek stroked his hands along Dave's sides and down his back, enjoying the feel of his muscles. When Dave recovered, he stroked Derek to completion, his lips swallowing Derek's cry as he came.

Afterwards they slumped together, breathless and sticky-sated, and Derek stroked his fingers slowly through Dave's hair while Dave pressed lazy kisses against his shoulder. It shouldn't feel this comfortable after the way they'd always fought. But it did. It felt right.

Derek's last thought before he fell asleep was, _How am I gonna explain this to Mama?_


	14. Chapter 14

Dave woke up alone. It scared him for a brief instant, as he wondered if Derek had panicked after the incredible intimacy of the night before. Then he sat up and realized he could hear the shower going. He grinned and stretched. Derek must have decided to make himself at home. Good. Maybe that meant he'd already put Mucci out in the back yard.

He got up and pulled on a pair of boxers, then wrapped his robe around him. They could go through the showering together negotiations some other time. He was hungry, and he was willing to bet they'd both kill for a cup of coffee.

He'd managed scrambled eggs and bacon by the time Derek got out of the shower. "Coffee's on the counter," he said, nodding to it. "Refill mine, would you?"

Derek laughed and poured coffee into both mugs sitting by the machine. "Sleep well?" he asked. He brought Dave's mug over and hesitated, then pressed a light kiss against Dave's cheek.

Dave smiled, a burst of happiness going through him at the gesture. He turned his head and gave Derek a proper kiss. "Like a log," he said. "You?"

Derek raised an eyebrow. "You snore, Rossi," he said, but he grinned and gave him another kiss.

"Ah, well. Guess you'd better buy some earplugs, Morgan."

Derek laughed and stole a piece of bacon. "You never were with Jordan, were you?" he asked.

Dave gave him a look. "Of course I wasn't. What would she want with a fussy old guy like me? I just let you think what you were determined to think anyway."

"You better not think that just 'cause I'm sleeping with you, I'm gonna be easy from now on," Derek warned him.

Dave laughed. "Oh, Derek, that's the last thing I would want."


End file.
